


Chariot's Redemption

by Salute_the_Captain



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, M/M, Mementos (Persona 5), My First Fanfic, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ryuji Sakamoto Deserved Better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 65,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23137189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salute_the_Captain/pseuds/Salute_the_Captain
Summary: After a heated debate about what to do regarding Okumura's Palace quickly spirals, Morgana runs out in a fit of anger, in an attempt to prove he can conquer the Palace on his own. But this time, Ryuji, fed up with being the laughingstock of the group, decides to quit the team himself shortly after. On this new path he has forged for himself, he finds unlikely friends, the resolve to conquer his own demons, and...maybe, just maybe, the chance to become the hero no one believed him to be.(Or: the Ryuji quits the team AU no one asked for)
Relationships: (sort of) - Relationship, Akechi Goro & Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Okumura Haru & Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 335
Kudos: 589





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to use my first fic to redo some scenes I don't like. Extra development for Haru? Redemption for Akechi? My favorite ship? Giving Ryuji the credit he deserves? All that and more!!
> 
> All feedback welcome!

“First, Prosecutor Nijima has been looking into the continued cases of people suddenly collapsing. It seems she is searching for a common thread to tie them all together.”

Yusuke speaks in his usual soothing baritone as he looks over Futaba’s hunched figure at her laptop screen. The rest of the Thieves listen intently as they stand around the table Futaba sits at.

 _It’s cloudy tonight_ , Ryuji can’t help but notice, as he spots the window of Akira’s bedroom (well, “bedroom”) out of the corner of his eye. Ryuji’s usually not one to complain about a few clouds, but the grey from the window just seems to add to the dreariness of the environment. No one’s in a particularly good mood today, especially considering the mystifying news of Kobayakawa’s death. The air itself feels heavy, somehow. Phantom Thief stuff is usually enough to amp Ryuji up for a good while, with the warmth of LeBlanc and the opportunity to spend time with the few friends he actually has, but…

“…she has cited a beneficiary of the majority of these incidents.” 

_That_ gets his attention, snapping him out of his reverie. A beneficiary?

“The corporation Okumura Foods,” Yusuke continues, standing up straight to look at the rest of the team. He’s easily the tallest member, his lanky figure only adding to it by giving the illusion of extra height in a way. He’s come a long way since his days under Madarame, back when simply being near bright colors would make Yusuke look washed out, and when his bones stuck out sharply against his skin. Now, there’s something about him that manages to captivate an audience when need be. Some sort of newfound self-confidence. An assuredness of knowing who he is. It’s nice to see.

“More prominently,” Yusuke adds. “Its CEO. Kunikazu Okumura." 

“Okumura?” Ryuji wonders aloud in a mutter. “I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere…”

“From Big Bang Burger,” Yusuke supplies helpfully.

He almost staggers in shock. “Big Bang Burger?!” Ryuji exclaims. “For real?”

“You know,” Ann says, crossing her arms. “They only got famous sometime in the past few years. They even had a branch in Hawaii."

“It says here they benefited both from scandals and the resignations of their competitors’ executives,” Yusuke says, looking back at the screen.

“That would seem to be the case,” Makoto says, looking thoughtful.

“This is too suspicious though,” Morgana pipes up from where he’s lounging on the table. “Only one CEO is profiting from these seemingly accidental incidents. I think it’s natural to suspect he’s intentionally causing them.”

“I get that,” Makoto says. “But still…”

Ryuji glances at her. She’s looking off to the side, obviously conflicted about something. He frowns. Is it about Okumura? Ryuji hates agreeing with the cat, but even _he_ has to admit that Morgana has a point. Okumura just _screams_ “bad guy.” She’s got to see that, right? What could be the issue?

“We have even more evidence than that,” Morgana says. “Tell them, Futaba.”

“I already tried putting Okumura’s name in the Nav,” Futaba says, her bespectacled eyes never leaving the screen once as she speaks. “He has a Palace for sure.”

_For real?!_

“That settles it then!” Ryuji shouts. “He’s totally our next target!”

“That’s right,” Morgana says with a nod. “Okumura is at the top of the rankings, after all.”

“Hold on,” Yusuke interjects. “That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s evil. If we jump into this too carelessly…”

Not evil? The proof is _literally_ in the data they stole from Sae! He’s totally evil! Ryuji is about to speak up, but Yusuke keeps talking, his tone having darkened significantly.

“Beyond that, this Phantom Thieves fad is…” He frowns. “Unsettling.”

“Yeah,” Ann says, looking just as dubious as Yusuke. “The excitement levels don’t feel normal. We might want to let things calm down a bit first.”

Seriously? Ryuji can’t help the outburst that escapes him.

“You too, Ann?” he says in disbelief. “You’re just gonna go against what people want?!”

“Huh?” Ann is bewildered. “No! It’s just…C’mon, Ryuji, don’t you see it? Even someone like _you_ must be able to see how suspicious everything is!”

Someone like him, huh? Ouch. But he supposes he should be used to comments like those. The whole team sees him as an idiot anyway. Ann probably doesn’t even realize she said that, which only proves how typical this kind of interaction is. A quiet voice in his head urges him to think about that more, to not just ignore it, but Ryuji pushes it aside. Not now.

Besides that…Ryuji thinks back to the conversation leading up to this point. Thinks back to the past few days. Sure, the Phantom Thieves fad is…weird. As much as how Ryuji loves the attention they’re getting, he has to admit it feels off. They’ve never blown up like this before, and that could be written off as some kind of lucky break. But his gut feeling nags at him. Is that really all there is to it? Is there something else?

“I…I guess I get your point,” Ryuji admits grudgingly. “But…”

But that doesn’t mean they should ignore the problem at hand! Okumura _has_ to be stopped! Who else is gonna do it but them? And how do they know waiting won’t lead to them being too late? What if there’s another Kobayakawa? Another big incident like the train crash back in April? All because they didn’t act in time!

Ryuji wants to say all that and more. He almost does. 

But he doesn’t.

Why should he? He’s the idiot of the group. All brawn, no brain, or whatever, right? As their team continued to grow, it was obvious Ryuji’s say at the table continued to shrink in importance. Whatever he says now will probably be shut down without a second thought. After all, that’s not his role in the group. So why bother protesting? Right?

Ryuji doesn’t continue his thought from earlier. Instead, he just sighs in defeat.

It’s quiet after that. No one really knows what to say. He supposes that’s his fault. But he’s too tired to try to do something about it. The grey is really starting to seep in. At this point, he just wants to go home.

He’s been feeling that more frequently as of late. Just an urge to leave when at a Phantom Thieves meeting. An urge to escape from all the cold glances and mocking words. An urge to ignore the group chat, or stay at home instead of coming to LeBlanc, or shrinking in on himself in the Shujin hallways so there’s a lesser chance of a teammate noticing him.

But that’s just exhaustion, right? Ryuji hasn’t been sleeping a lot. It makes sense that he’s just getting tired more easily. After all, it’s definitely not because there’s an issue with the other members. They’re his _friends_. They’re not doing anything wrong. That’s just how it is.

“L-looks like we’re not gonna agree today then…” Futaba says meekly. She’s still not looking at them as she talks, but this time he suspects is less out of a need to concentrate on something on her screen and more of a need to avoid meeting their eyes.

There’s a growl from the table as Morgana gets to his feet. “Sheesh.” He scowls. (Can cats scowl?) “Some team you are. What’s with all the hesitation? I can’t stand this!”

Somehow, he manages to look down on them as he berates them. His blue eyes are sparking with rage, like electricity.

“Even you, Ryuji!” he spits out. “You just back down the second someone disagrees with you!”

God, what the hell? The cat really can’t go one day without insulting him, can he? Ryuji huffs angrily.

“I guess all you’ve been talking about is using the Phantom Thieves name to pick up girls anyway,” Morgana says with a sneer. “Being hyped up because of the popularity is fine, but getting conceited over it is unacceptable.”

Did he _really_ just say that? As if he’s sitting up on some high horse? The damn hypocrite.

“Hey, aren’t you actin’ for your own benefit here too?” Ryuji retorts.

Morgana’s tail sticks straight out as he leans forward on his front paws in an aggressive stance. “My appearance might have changed, but I’m still an admirable human!” he says in the most insufferable tone. “At the very least, I’m more admirable than some carnal blond _monkey!"_

“You little - !”

“Fine.” Morgana’s tail swishes. “I can take on some small-time target like Okumura on my own. Sorry, but it looks like _I’ll_ be getting the credit for solving the mental shutdown mystery.”

There’s a slight pause, as a troubled expression passes over Morgana’s face. But it’s gone in a blink of an eye, immediately replaced by his previous cockiness, as he continues glaring at Ryuji. “I’m going to show you who the useless one actually is!”

Morgana says with much more venom than his previous statements, as if there’s some kind of deeper meaning behind those words that Ryuji’s supposed to get. Christ, what effing memo did he miss this time?

“What’re you talkin’ about, man?” Might as well play it safe. “Useless?”

“What, you don't remember? _You're_ the one who said it,” Morgana shoots back. “Which is _obviously_ wrong. We all know you’re the useless one, anyway. But it looks like I'll have to be the one to reemphasize it.”

Ryuji lets his confusion distract him from the scathing of those comments. He called Morgana useless? Ryuji racks his brain for that. When did he – oh, wait.

“Dude, you mean back in Hawaii?” Ryuji says incredulously. “That – it was a joke, man! And that was just one time! You say worse shit to me way more than that! Everyone here does!”

“I say them because they’re true,” Morgana says, rolling his eyes. “And so does everyone else. But whatever. This is a waste of time. I have to go show you that I’m _right_ , after all.”

That _stings_. “Fine then!” Ryuji shouts, covering up the pain. “Bring it on!”

“Ryuji, stop!” Ann yells, crossing the room to get near them.

Right. Because _he’s_ the one to blame for all this. Sure.

Morgana turns away. Ryuji makes out a faint mumbling, but he can’t tell what Morgana’s saying. Louder, Morgana says, “Well, this is goodbye!” as he gets ready to leap off the table.

“What’s gotten into you?” Akira says, speaking up for the first time since everything started. He’s always been the quiet type, but couldn’t he have jumped in earlier? Ryuji can’t help the bitterness that rises from that thought.

Morgana hesitates. Then, shaking his head, he keeps walking.

“Morgana, wait!” Ann pleads.

He stops again. Longer, this time. Ryuji almost thinks he’s going to turn back – he’s always had a soft spot for Ann – but he doesn’t. Instead, with a “See you,” Morgana pounces off the table and leaves the attic.

Silence fills the attic again. Then –

“What the hell, Ryuji?”

Ryuji turns, coming face to face with Ann’s icy blue gaze.

“Wh – me?!”

“You always get him _so_ riled up,” Ann says. “Why would you even joke about him being useless? That’s _not_ okay! He’s obviously still upset about that!”

“Are you serious? He makes comments about me that're _way_ worse!” Ryuji’s voice is rising involuntarily, and he knows he should quiet down, he knows this is just confirming their views of him as the impulsive foul-mouthed delinquent, but _God_ he’s so pissed. She’s taking Morgana’s side. They’re all taking _Morgana’s_ side. Just like they always do. “Why is it that when I do it it’s not okay, but whenever he or anyone else tells me shit like that you guys just sit back and watch?!”

“Because they’re – ”

She stops herself. But he can guess what she was gonna say.

“Because they’re true?” he says. His voice has quieted.

Judging by her flinch, and the almost undetectable looks of guilt from everyone else as they watch, Ryuji knows he’s right on the money.

“Ryuji – ” Futaba starts.

“Save it. Just – ” Ryuji looks down at the tops of his ratty sneakers. The pain that he’d been ignoring this whole time starts to seep in, and it’s all he can do to not tear up. He doesn’t want to fight them anymore. He just wants to go home. “Just don’t.”

 _They're your friends_ , he thinks. _It’s not their fault that this is all you’re good for. They’re right, anyways._

But that quiet voice from before, the one that’s been bugging him more and more lately, like it had earlier, as well as the urge to leave, start to drown out those thoughts. _This ain’t right_ , that voice says, more insistent than ever, almost impossible to ignore this time. _This ain’t_ right _. You know that._

“I’m gonna head out,” Ryuji hears himself say distantly.

“Where?” someone asks. He thinks it’s Makoto.

“Home,” he answers. Then he smiles crookedly. It’s not a smile he uses often. It feels kinda strange. “I’m not gonna go runnin’ off to the Palace, if you were worried about that. Ah, who am I kiddin’. You wouldn’t worry about me.”

“Of course we would,” someone else says. He looks over. It’s Akira, his glasses flashing in the light, masking his eyes. “We care about you, Ryuji.”

“Right.”

“Ryuji.” Akira definitely notices his unconvinced expression. “Just - why don’t we all just call it a day, cool our heads, and we can meet up tomorrow – ”

“No.”

Akira halts mid-sentence. He’s looking at Ryuji now, and although it’s still hard to tell, Ryuji thinks he detects a slight hurt in his grey eyes. Then again, it could just be Ryuji’s imagination looking for a way to make him change his mind on what he’s going to do. But Ryuji soldiers onwards.

“Meet up without me. I quit.”

“Ryuji,” Makoto says, her voice patient with a tinge of something frantic. “You can’t just – ”

“Why not?” he interrupts her. “Not like you guys’d want to keep me around anyway. I’m obviously not wanted here. So I’m just doin’ you guys a favor.”

Some other people start to talk, start to protest, but Ryuji turns away.

 _I can’t just leave my friends_ , he thinks.

 _Yes you can,_ the quiet voice says. _Especially if they were never your friends to begin with._

So he does.

And he doesn’t look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one. Might have gotten carried away?
> 
> There's also a small part in the chapter where the POV bounces around a little bit, so sorry if that's confusing! If it is I'll probably edit it later.

School is awkward. 

Yusuke and Futaba don’t attend Shujin, and while the other three aren’t even in his class, the chances of running into them at least once during the day are way too high for his liking. And it feels strange to not be on his phone during class texting the group chat or catching up on Phantom Thief News. And eating lunch alone on the school rooftop, as he’s doing now, makes him feel oddly empty, but he really doesn’t want to eat at the cafeteria and risk seeing - 

Wait. 

Ryuji frowns, setting his bento box aside, and squints at something in front of him. Have those flowerbeds always been there?

He stands and walks around the school desks grouped right in the middle of the rooftop - why are they even there? Some of them aren’t even broken - and stops. Those are definitely flowerbeds, he confirms, kneeling in front of one. He thinks he remembers seeing these from back when the roof was the meeting spot for… _that_ …but to be fair, his mind _had_ been preoccupied with other things. A shame, really. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to notice these, especially considering how nice they looked. Whoever grew these really knows their stuff. 

He’s so focused on the plants, he doesn’t even register the sound of the door opening and someone else entering the rooftop, until he hears them let out a little gasp. Confused, he looks up, wondering who on Earth would also have decided to spend their lunchtime at a place like this. A girl dressed in pink with fluffy light auburn hair that just reaches her chin meets his gaze with wide brown eyes. 

“I’m sorry!” Her voice is high and fluttery, with a very prim and proper diction that...seems to suit her, even though he doesn't know anything about her. “I didn’t know someone else would be up here!”

“Nah, I should be the one apologizin’,” Ryuji says, after getting over his initial surprise. “I’m the one intrudin’. I can leave, if you want.” He gets to his feet.

“Oh, please don’t do such a thing on my behalf!” Her eyes somehow grow even wider. “I would feel so guilty.”

He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay! If you say so. 'Though I wouldn’t blame you if you changed your mind. Most people wouldn’t wanna hang out with someone like me for long. Especially considerin’ my reputation.”

“Well, considering how I've never truly cared for the opinions of the people within this school, that shouldn’t be much of an issue.”

He blinks at her bluntness. She beams in response, revealing two perfect dimples. Well. Guess he should’ve known better to not judge a book by its cover. 

“Are you interested in gardening, too?”

“Huh?” Oh! Right, the flowerbeds. He shrugs. “My ma used to keep a garden when I was a kid. Just a small one, on our windowsill, but she still managed to make it look great. Said she used to work in a flower shop back in high school. She tried to teach me, but, uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think I remember much from it.”

“Used to?” she says. “What happened?”

“Uh.” He’s a little taken aback, because no one, _especially_ not other students at Shujin, has ever shown this much genuine interest in holding a conversation with him. Well, maybe one, but…he shakes the thought away. “My ma started working longer shifts, so she didn’t really have the time to garden anymore.” He leaves out how his dad had been the one to destroy their garden in the first place, during one of his drunken rampages. “And good quality soil is expensive, so…” He laughs, a little awkwardly. “Just the way it is, I guess.”

“I see.” Her eyes turn sad. 

“Sorry.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes trained on the plants. “Was that too much? Didn’t mean to unload all that on you.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. I’m the one who asked, after all.”

He looks up at the sound of soft footsteps, as she moves to stand next to the flowerbeds, too. “I usually come up here during lunchtime to check on them,” she explains. “They’re growing nicely, don’t you think?”

“They are,” Ryuji agrees. He kneels in front of one of the beds again. “Soil looks kinda dry, though. You might have to water them sometime soon. And these are snapdragons, right? What kind of fertilizer do you use? The flower shop at the Underground Mall's got some really good fertilizer for those, but it’s kinda pricey. And are those carrots over there? Those are _real_ tough to grow, without - ”

He stops, and looks up from the plants. Is she…giggling?

“What?” he asks, a little defensively.

“Nothing.” She beams again, in a way that makes him suspect it’s not actually “nothing.” “Just that I believe you remember a lot more than you think…um…”

She trails off. Then her face flushes the same shade of pink as her cardigan.

“I never did get your name, did I?”

“Oh, yeah!” He grins. “I’m Ryuji Sakamoto. Second-year.”

“Oh, you’re a second-year?” She looks contemplative. “I suppose that makes me your senior.” She giggles, the sound as bubbly and airy as music. “I’m Haru.”

He waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “Haru…?”

“Just Haru.” Her smile dims a little. “If that’s alright.”

Ryuji frowns a little in confusion, but shrugs it off. Everyone’s got their reasons. “Nice to meet you, Haru.”

Apparently that was the right thing to say. “The pleasure is all mine, Ryuji.” Her eyes twinkle. “By any chance, are you free after school today? I’ll be here to do some work on the garden, and I’d appreciate an extra hand.”

“For real?” She’s asking _him_ to spend time with her? Willingly? _Him?!_ “I mean, hell yeah! I’ll be here!”

“Wonderful!”

\---

They strike up a nice routine for the next few days. He hadn’t realized how much he really missed gardening until now. His memories of gardening with his mom, which had been so faint before, suddenly start coming back clearer and more vivid than ever. And staying to help Haru also helps him avoid running into any of the other Thieves after school, which is a plus he hadn’t anticipated. 

And it’s strange, because a friendship between people as different as them _shouldn’t_ work, but somehow the exchanges they have while they’re watering the flowers or organizing plans for the next round of plants or dragging 66-pound bags of soil to the roof leave him feeling lighter than air.

“Wish I could bring my mom here,” he comments off-handedly one day, dusting his hands off after he finishes replanting one of the beds. “She’d love it.”

“I’m sure you could.” Haru’s a few feet away, tending to the tomatoes. “I would love to meet her.”

He sighs. “I dunno. She’s…”

“Too busy?” Haru finishes, looking up. She nods, as if she completely understands how he feels, and Ryuji’s gut tells him that she actually does. “Perhaps you could show her some pictures?”

“She’s barely at home,” he says, moving to the next bed and picking up a trowel. “She’s already gone by the time I wake up to get to school, and she doesn’t come back ‘til almost midnight. Weekends are the only days she gets to take a break, and I’d feel bad makin’ her have to deal with me ‘stead of relaxing.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” Haru says. “It sounds like you two are rather distant. Does it not get lonely?”

He pauses for a moment. “Maybe,” he admits. “But this helps,” he adds, gesturing to the beds around them. “Reminds me of back then, when I’d garden with her. It feels like she’s with me, y’know? It’s almost like I can hear her talkin’ to me about the different flowers, or feel her hand guidin’ mine when I’m diggin’. Does that make sense?”

When he looks at her again, her eyes have turned wistful. “It makes perfect sense.”

He tilts his head in question, because there’s a lot of pain in her voice even in just that short sentence, and she continues. “My grandfather used to own a cafe chain. He grew all the coffee and vegetables himself.”

Ryuji’s reminded of a different cafe, with hot curry and quiet nights and playing video games with someone he’d thought was his best friend. God, why does everything have to remind him of - 

He cuts his train of thought off, swallowing. “Sounds amazin’,” he says honestly.

“It was,” she agrees. “But when he died, my father took over, and it became…something else entirely. This rooftop garden…it’s one of the only ways I can still connect with my grandfather.”

They share a look of understanding. The sun seems to smile down on them.

It’s their quiet moments he values the most, though, when they put down their tools to take a breather and just sit there. It fills him with a sense of peace and security that’s incredibly strange and foreign…but not unwelcome at all. 

“May I ask you something, Ryuji?” she asks one day, during one of these moments. When he turns to her, she’s studying him, almost concerned. 

“Are you scared of me?” she asks.

“What?” He frowns. “What makes you think that?”

“Well…” She worries her lower lip. “Whenever I try to correct you on something, you…you flinch.”

Does he? He thinks back. His memories with his mom obviously don’t make him an expert on gardening, and he’s not very good at the jobs that require more nuance, so he’s definitely messed up multiple times. But even when he made the dumbest mistakes, Haru was always there with kindness and patient advice. And sure, she’d tease him, but there would never be any malice behind her words - only playfulness. Far from anything like calling him pathetic or worthless or a detriment to the team - 

“Ryuji?” She’s definitely worried now. “Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks. “N-no! Sorry. It’s just…no, you didn’t do anything to scare me, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just, uh…” How does he say this without making her more concerned? “Just had bad friends, I guess. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Somehow, she looks even more worried, which he mentally curses himself for. “You don’t talk much about your other friends.”

“I don’t…” He flushes, embarrassed. “I don’t really have other friends. They were the only friends I had.” Involuntarily, he scowls. “Dunno if they ever considered me as a ‘friend,’ though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind.” He moves on before she can continue questioning him. “What about you, Haru? You don’t really talk about your other friends either.”

“Ah…” Now it’s her turn to look embarrassed. “Most people don’t want to be friends with me.”

“Really?” 

She giggles. “Your genuine confusion is very flattering. But my father is rather strict about the company I keep, and the majority of people who do try to befriend me only do so in hopes of getting closer with my father.”

“Huh? Why? Oh, you said somethin’ about how your dad took over your grandpa’s cafe chain, right? Is he real famous, then?”

“I…” Her nose scrunches a little. “I suppose. It’s no longer a cafe chain, really, though. It’s a restaurant chain, now.”

“Maybe I’ve heard of it? What’s it called?”

She hesitates, and there’s a flash of fear that crosses over her face.

“Hey.” He reaches for her hand, then thinks better of it, and instead bumps his shoulder against hers as a friendly gesture. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” He’d be a hypocrite to pressure her into revealing something she’d rather keep secret, after all, considering his own history. “But just so you know, I don’t give a shit about who your dad is.”

He accidentally lets the swear word slip, and he momentarily panics because it feels wrong swearing in front of someone as polite and dainty as her, but it does surprise a laugh out of her. He grins. “I’m serious! Whoever he is or whatever he’s done, I’m not gonna think of you any differently. I wanna be friends with you for _you_.”

She doesn’t say anything for a while, as she searches his gaze, and he wonders if he said the wrong thing, but then her whole body seems to relax, as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Ryuji.”

Her words are saturated with gratitude, and he’s confused again, because why is she thanking him? All he did was tell the truth. But he smiles in response.

“Of course.”

\---

“Come…on…move!”

Haru huffs, throwing her entire bodyweight against the trolley heaped with bags of soil, but it doesn’t even budge. Jeez. She’d texted Ryuji to meet her here instead of the rooftop a while ago. Had he not received it? He did often complain about his phone’s carrier service. Should she try calling him? Or…no, he wouldn’t have gone home, would he? 

Meanwhile, Akira walks out of the school doors, unable to keep the frustration from permeating the rest of his thoughts, as he keeps thinking about their encounter with Morgana in Okumura’s Palace last night. It’s been nearly a week now, and although earlier today they managed to find the identity of the so-called “Beauty Thief” Morgana was with - Haru Okumura, the daughter of Okumura himself of all people, what are the odds - they haven’t really made much more progress than that. Akira knows their focus right now is recovering the teammates they’ve lost, but with Morgana acting so unreasonably and Ryuji never anywhere to be found in school no matter how hard he searches (was he skipping school?), and with tensions among the team growing worse and worse at every meeting… 

He hears a grunt, shaking him out of his thoughts. He looks over, from where he had just left the school, to see a short girl in a red tracksuit struggling to push a trolley of soil. Ah…perfect timing.

“That looks heavy,” he says, a hint of dryness seeping into his words.

Haru turns, noticing him for the first time. She doesn’t seem to recognize him. Good.

“Um,” she begins, with that same flute-like voice. Yep. Definitely her. “Would you happen to be interested in gardening?”

He shoots his most charming smile. _Another day, another mask_ , he supposes. “Yeah, want some help?”

Within just a few minutes, he’s able to make quick work of unloading the trolley at the front gardens - turns out killing Shadows on a daily basis is as good of a workout routine as any, surprisingly enough - leaving Haru beaming.

“Boys sure are strong!” she gushes, and Akira struggles to remember why he had believed she could have been a threat even for a second. “Normally my friend would be here to assist me with all the heavy lifting, but he’s a little late today, I suppose. So thank you! Oh, you’re a second-year, aren’t you? That makes me just a tad older.”

She pauses. 

“Have we…met somewhere before?”

Well. “Have we?” he says, keeping his expression blank. “I’m Akira Kurusu, if that helps.”

“Akira…” She sounds his name out slowly, before shaking her head. “Well, regardless, it’s nice to meet you, Akira! I’m - ”

“Haru Okumura, correct?”

He turns, to see Makoto walking up to them, her stance all-business. “The only daughter of Kunikazu Okumura, CEO of Okumura Foods,” she continues. “Care to explain why you were inside your father’s Palace?”

Blunt, Akira notes, as Haru’s breath hitches in alarm. And bold, to talk about this in such a public place. Thankfully, there’s no one nearby, but… 

“Ah, so that’s where we met!” Haru’s beam returns remarkably quickly. “Wow, you figured it out in just a day! You looked really good in that biker gang outfit!”

Makoto grimaces. “Let’s…not talk about that,” she grits out. Her eyes flick around, doing one last security check, as her expression schools itself. “So,” she begins casually, as if she were just talking about the weather. “Why did you become a phantom thief?” 

Haru looks away, her mouth twisting. Without the mask, she really was just an open book, Akira notes. “My father’s highly regarded as a manager,” she starts to explain. “But I had various…doubts about him. Things have grown quite serious lately…which is why I want to make amends, even though it may only be for my own satisfaction.” She pauses. “But I wonder if this is just running from the problem…”

Akira nods in understanding. Her motivations sound reasonable enough. But that still didn’t explain…hm. “Where did you meet Morgana?” Akira asks, as a follow-up.

“It was pure coincidence,” Haru says, rubbing her right forearm with her left hand. “I found a lonely-looking cat in front of our office building. And when I followed him, I ended up in the Metaverse.” 

She looks up earnestly. “There’s no way for _me_ to change my father’s company,” she says. “But if I became a phantom thief, I thought I’d at least be able to change him.”

Makoto looks down. She seems…strangely empathetic, upon hearing Haru’s words. “Isn’t there any way we can work together?” Makoto asks, much softer compared to before.

Almost immediately, Haru shakes her head. “I can’t cooperate with people who don’t know what they want to do,” she says with disapproval. “What you’re doing is unnecessarily causing a stir among the public. Besides, the Phantom Thieves, who should be helping the weak, are not helping their own teammate.”

Makoto winces. Akira can’t blame her. Haru hit the nail right on the head. 

“I just want my father to atone for his crimes,” Haru says. The cold determination made visible through the furrow of her brow looks odd on someone so innocent-looking. “And help Mona-chan,” she adds. “Who gave me a chance to do just that.” 

“But aren’t our objectives the same?” Makoto protests. “It’d be better if we work - ”

“Hey Haru!” 

Haru looks over at the sound. “Oh!” Her expression immediately changes into one of pure delight. “You made it! I’m so glad!”

“Sorry about that!” The person’s footsteps draw closer. “I left my phone in my gym locker, so I didn’t get your text until - ”

As Akira and Makoto turn to face the speaker, Akira’s eyes widen. The person skids to a stop just a few feet away from them.

“Ryuji?” Makoto sounds just as shocked as Akira feels.

“U-um - ”

Haru looks at them, then at Ryuji, who looks… _afraid_. He’s frozen in place, eyes fearful and completely helpless, and his hands are beginning to tremble. She thinks back to how surprised and skeptical he looks whenever she compliments him, and how he’s always so reluctant to accept any kind gesture from her no matter how small the gesture is, and how he flinches whenever she tries to correct him on something as if he's expecting her to say...something worse. 

_Just had bad friends, I guess. That’s all_.

“Ryuji.” It’s Akira who speaks this time. “Can…can we talk?”

No. Something was very wrong here.

“Ryuji,” Haru says, in her kindest voice. “I forgot to grab my bag from the roof. Could you get it for me?”

That was a lie. He’d definitely know that, since he had most likely been waiting on the roof before coming down here, and probably would have noticed if her bag was there. But he takes the opportunity Haru creates for him, and bolts. 

She faces them again. 

“I suppose I should edit my previous statement,” she says. “The Phantom Thieves are not just neglecting their teammate. They also hurt their friends.”

Akira’s heart feels a stab of pain at that. He thinks back to how scared Ryuji had looked to see them. No, not them. It was only after he’d made eye contact with Akira that fear had settled on his face. But…why?

“If you hurt him again,” Haru says, and there's definitely a sharpness to her voice now. “I will not hesitate to push you off the top of Okumura Foods Headquarters myself. Is that clear?”

She dimples. For the first time, even after meeting her in the Palace, Akira feels a chill of terror run down his spine. 

And with that, Haru turns on her heel, walking back into the school.

Makoto sighs, turning to face Akira. “We…really messed up, didn’t we?” she says, sounding almost defeated.

Before Akira can respond, she shakes her head. “No. _I_ messed up.”

“Makoto, that’s not - ”

“No, it is.” She cuts him off. “I…I always got so frustrated with him. I always assumed he just didn’t care enough to actually put in the effort, but…I never gave him enough credit for everything he does for us. And I should’ve done something to resolve the tension between him and Morgana as soon as I noticed, instead of just assuming that everything was fine.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Her eyes blaze. “I’m the team adviser! And the student council president! I should know how to keep a team together! I should be _better_ than this! But now everything’s falling apart, and I - I don’t - ”

She inhales shakily, and Akira reaches out, but she turns away. 

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’ll…I’ll see you at our next meeting.”

Before Akira can protest - because it’s _not_ her fault, she’s not the one who didn’t notice everything Morgana had been going through despite _literally_ living with him, she’s not the one who abandoned and failed a best friend, she’s not the one who could have done something more, it’s him, it’s _him_ , it’s all his fault and he _hates_ it - she leaves, and Akira is left alone.

\---

The door to the rooftop opens. Haru peeks in. Seeing no sign of anyone, she steps onto the rooftop, closing the door behind her, and walks around to where the flowerbeds are, to see Ryuji sitting in front of one, staring vacantly at a leaf on one of the plants.

“Sorry,” Ryuji says, without looking up. “You shouldn’t’ve had to see that.”

He doesn’t look at her, even when she sits next to him, pressing her shoulder against his. The pressure is grounding. “Were they your old friends?” she asks quietly.

“Some of them,” he says. “It’s funny. I used to trust them with my life.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing.” He pauses, then he scoffs. “Wow. Yeah. Nothing changed. I was just too stupid to not realize sooner that they didn’t give two shits about me.”

He looks at her. The way she’s completely focused on him, so willing to listen to all his stupid issues, her eyes completely open and accepting, are so reminiscent of _him_ , with those same eyes framed behind black glasses, someone he thought he could trust, someone he thought would always be there for him - 

And suddenly, everything comes spilling out - their insults, their willingness to let him be the scapegoat for everything, the way they never credit him for any of the effort he puts in or any of the good things he accomplishes and only ever focus on the bad, the fact that they literally admitted to his face that they saw him as nothing more than a stupid and useless excuse of a human being who could occassionally throw a good punch and run kinda fast. He makes sure to leave out all the Phantom Thief stuff and omits any names, but besides that everything he says is just an unfiltered mess of what he’s had to keep to himself whenever he walks past one of their classrooms or checks his phone only to see the empty space where the Phantom Thief chat icon once was or even when he walks past the arcade - 

“And the person I thought was my best friend - “ His voice is rising now. “He - he just _stood_ there when two of the track team guys were full-on beatin’ me up! And when he started makin’ more friends, he stopped hangin’ out with me! I - I thought he’d always be there for me, even when no one else would, but - he didn’t even _try_ to stop me from leavin’, and even after Shinjuku - ”

He cuts himself off, as his vision threatens to go red, and he feels bile start to form in his throat from the flashbacks.

“Y’know what the worst part is?” He says, still trying to push back those memories from rising to the surface. “I still miss him. After everything he’s done…I’d still follow him anywhere. I - if he asked me to come back, to put myself through that all over again…I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Ryuji…”

“That’s why I was so scared.” He blinks hard. “‘Cause I - I know he’s never cared about me the way I thought he did, but I don’t want him to ask me to be friends again because I just _know_ I’d say yes, but if he doesn’t ask it’ll be just like back then when he’d just _stand_ there and then leave me. And I’ve been so happy bein’ able to spend time with you, and you’ve been a better friend than any of them ever were, but…even though I _know_ that…I know that I’m better off without them…I still miss him.”

God. He said it. He actually said it.

He laughs, but it comes out harsh and choked and broken. “They were right, huh? I really am a dumbass. God, I…I…”

The next thing he knows, he feels gentle arms wrap around him, and he’s sobbing and clinging to Haru for dear life, as she rubs his back and whispers quiet comforts in his ear. He lets her warmth envelop him and seep into his core, as he cries for all that he’s lost, cries for all that he can’t let go of, cries for what he’ll never get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Ryuji knowing about flowers/gardening came from this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087554
> 
> Also I was NOT expecting this much of a response to the first chapter! Thank you guys so much! More stuff coming your way soon :))


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the changed warnings and fic summary!

“My last name is Okumura.”

Ryuji blinks. It’s the day after “shit hit the fan,” as Ryuji would describe it (although Haru probably wouldn’t approve of that description), and the two had simply been eating their lunches in relative quiet when Haru says that out of the blue.

She fidgets at his silence. “I want you to know…I really, truly appreciated how much you opened up to me yesterday. It was a vulnerability and trust that I’m not sure I truly earned to see. But I’m very grateful you allowed me to be there for you.”

Ryuji's at a complete loss for words. 

“J-jeez, Haru…” Ryuji stammers. “I - I dunno if I deserve all that just for makin’ a mess of myself in front of you…if anything, I should be the one thankin’ you. For still wantin’ to spend time with me even after all that.” 

“Nonsense.” She shakes her head. “Of course I would. But, in any case. That’s why I wanted to share my last name with you.”

“Wow.” He scratches the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks burn. “I appreciate you entrustin’ me with…wait.” He trails off, as her first statement finally registers. “Okumura? As in - ”

“Okumura Foods, yes.”

“For real?!” 

All this time, he’d been hanging out with Okumura’s _daughter_ ? Haru is _Okumura’s daughter_? His mind reels, as he tries to see the connection between Okumura, who was literally considered by everyone on the Phan-Site to be the most corrupt person in Tokyo right now, and Haru, the sweetest, kindest person he’s ever had the chance to meet. 

Crap. He should say something, shouldn’t he? Haru’s fidgeting more and more by the second.

“Sorry for freakin’ out like that.” He clears his throat. “Really, thank you for tellin’ me.”

She nods, but the crease in her brow doesn’t go away. “So…about what you said before…”

What did he say before…Oh, from the other day? Ryuji nods firmly. “‘Course it still stands. You’re my friend. I’d be stupid to judge you about somethin’ like what your last name happens to be.”

She exhales, her expression smoothing out. “That’s good to hear.”

“Must be tough though, right?” He frowns, putting his lunch away. He was nearly done with it anyway. “Y’know, with all the stuff goin’ around…”

He doesn’t need to specify. She thinks for a moment, her chopsticks hovering. “To be quite frank, I’ve never agreed with the way he ran the company,” she says. “Especially as of late. So the recent media craze…it’s not very surprising. I even made a request on the Phan-Site about it, before all the scandals occurred.”

“Wait, really?” That’s weird. Why didn’t Mishima ever tell them about that? That kind of request would’ve been right up their alley. It is possible he just didn’t notice it, though, since he’s just one guy running an extremely active website. That was probably it…right? 

“They never responded, though,” she says. She acts casual about it, as she chews on a piece of shrimp, but there's definite disappointment coloring her words. “But, I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

“Yeah?” Ryuji says. “‘You think the Phantom Thieves’ll listen this time?”

“Perhaps.” She doesn’t elaborate, which strikes Ryuji as odd. But before he can say anything, she keeps going. “I still have more pressing matters I need to attend to regardless, so I have not been able to focus on everything else yet.”

“Oh, right.” He should’ve realized before. “The media’s probably always naggin’ you, too, huh? And everyone in Shujin?”

“Well, part of it is that, yes.” She idly twirls her chopsticks in her noodles. “The media has always been rather bothersome. But I’ve learned to lie low, and ignore the whispers of the those surrounding me. So I suppose it could be worse.”

“Yeah, guess so.” Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the media mentioning anything about Haru, besides maybe mentioning in passing the fact that Okumura has a daughter. So he doesn’t doubt her when she says she’s learned to lie low. It’s obviously been working so far.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Haru says. “I won’t be able to stay after school today. I’m very sorry.”

“Oh.” Ryuji can’t help his disappointment, but it’s soon replaced with concern. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” she says. “It’s very sweet of you to worry, though. I just have to attend…training, for something.”

Training? What did she have to train for? Was it something for the Okumura Food company, maybe? But then, why did she say it in such a vague way?

“Would you mind tending to everything without me?” Haru asks. “The carrots are looking rather…off. I’m sorry to ask this of you, you look dreadfully tired.”

Ryuji can’t deny that. After everything yesterday, he’d had a hard time falling asleep, too plagued by memories of Palaces and Mementos and _so much yelling_. But he shakes his head. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m happy to look after all that, but…you sure you wanna entrust me with that responsibility?”

“I’d trust you with anything, Ryuji.”

His heart skips a beat. Did she really…

He waits for the punchline, but it never comes. All he sees is honesty and openness and _God_ what did he do to deserve her - 

“Haru,” he complains, turning bright red. “Give a guy some warning!”

She giggles. “You look as red as the tomatoes.”

“Shut up!”

\--- 

“Are we even sure they’re going to show up?” Ann says with a sigh. 

She sounds bored out of her mind. Akira can’t blame her. The five of them are gathered near the Mementos entrance they normally use. Akira feels almost ready to explode, after standing in the same spot for hours of tense silence. He really should’ve brought his books with him. Even doing his homework would be better than this.

It was Makoto’s idea to have a stakeout, after suspecting Haru and Morgana were the ones solving Mementos requests under the Phantom Thieves name. And while Akira appreciated the idea…it’s much less enjoyable in practice. 

“Come to think of it…” Yusuke’s still looking out into the dark strange depths of Mementos, framing it between his fingers as if all this is just an intriguing piece of art - which, Akira supposes, isn’t that far off, in a weird way. “Are we sure it’s Mona and the Beauty Thief who are solving these requests? There’s also the chance that Skull is the one responsible, correct?”

“I doubt it,” Futaba says, huddled in her own makeshift corner of snacks and tech (someone came prepared for a stakeout), blinking up owlishly behind her red goggles. “Whoever’s been doing the Mementos requests also leaves comments on the website. Skull knows better than to do that. That’s more of a rookie mistake, which fits the bill for our resident Beauty Thief. And Mona’s a cat, so it’s not like he would know better about this kind of Internet stuff to be able to correct her.”

“Also,” Ann adds, removing one of her gloves to inspect her nails. “It’s Skull we’re talking about here. He wouldn’t be able to do _that_ much on his own.”

Yusuke pauses. He lowers his hands. When he turns around, Akira can see the shift in his eyes, almost like they’re coming back into focus with reality after having been caught up in his own head.

“Ah,” he says. “So he was right.”

Ann looks up. The rest of the team glance over in his direction as well, unnerved by the sudden change in his tone.

“What?” Ann says defensively.

“The fact that you don’t even realize what you did wrong only serves as further proof,” Yusuke replies.

She crosses her arms. “Isn’t that kind of rich, coming from you? What are you even talking about, anyw - ”

“Shh!”

Futaba shushes them, cutting Ann off. Ann glares at Yusuke, as if to say _this isn’t over_.

Soon enough, it becomes clear why Futaba shushed them. At the sound of two pairs of quiet footsteps, all of them look over, to see Morgana and Haru step through the turnstiles.

Morgana looks surprised at first, but then scowls.

“You guys are _seriously_ slacking off way too much!” he huffs. 

Haru, on the other hand, is as formal as ever. “Do you have business with us?” 

“Aren’t you fulfilling the requests on the Phantom Aficionado Website?” Makoto says, pointedly ignoring Morgana’s remark. “Even leaving comments? It’d be best if you don’t accept them so recklessly.”

“The police will track you down in no time,” Yusuke adds solemnly. “If that were to happen, we’d be caught up in it as well.”

Haru gasps. “That’s not what I intended!” She winces. “But…that would be my fault…I’m actually not that great with machines. I'm truly sorry.”

She bows, causing Morgana to turn his glare on her. “Why’re you apologizing?!”

“They’re telling us for our sake,” Haru says, her tone reminiscent of a parent explaining something to a child. “We should be thanking them.”

Morgana crosses his arms petulantly, completing the metaphor in Akira's mind. Makoto sighs. 

“Won’t you please put what happened behind us?” she asks.

A pause.

“So…” Morgana looks up, his eyes still wary. “ _I’m_ the one you’re here for?” His eyes widen. “You guys need me after all? Is that it?”

This again? “Of course,” Akira says. If they can assuage Morgana’s worries about that, hopefully that’ll put an end to all this. “You’re vital to our team.”

“We’re sorry, Mona,” Ann says. “We weren’t taking your feelings into consideration at all.”

“Panther…” Morgana’s facade begins to crack, and for a brief moment Akira thinks he’ll finally listen. 

But then he frowns. “No…this is all just a joke, isn’t it? There’s no way you…”

“We wouldn’t lie to you,” Akira says, in an attempt to get him to continue listening to Akira’s words instead of his own self-doubts. “What will it take for you to believe us?”

“Maybe you wouldn’t, but Ry - I mean, Skull - would - ” He pauses, giving them all another once-over, and Akira’s hopes plummet, as he realizes that this won’t work. Akira’s already lost him. “Where is Skull anyway?”

“Skull?” Haru asks. “Who - ?”

“We don’t know,” Yusuke says. “We haven’t seen him ever since the day you left.”

“Have you seen him?” Ann asks. “In the Palace, or in Mementos? At all?”

Morgana’s expression darkens. 

“Why do you care so much about him?” His eyes narrow. “It’s not like he contributes anything to the team. Do you think _that_ brainless moron is more useful than me?”

“Mona!” Makoto frowns. “What happened between you two, anyway? Is there some unresolved issue that occurred before I joined the team?”

“You two _are_ always jumping at each other’s throats,” Yusuke muses. “It’s been that way for as long as I can recall. I assumed it was merely something minor, as it had never interfered with the success of our missions before, but…”

“What, so all of a sudden I’m the villain?” Morgana’s tail stiffens. “I was just saying what was on everyone’s minds.”

“Wh - Mona!” It’s Ann who speaks this time, looking horrified. “You shouldn’t badmouth him like that!”

“You said the exact same thing to his face the other day, though,” Futaba says. Ann glares at her, and Futaba shrinks away slightly back into her corner. “I-it just seems a little hypocritical.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be pointing fingers at each other right now - ” Makoto says as placatingly as she can, but her words go unnoticed, as the other members continue throwing pointed words at each other. 

The tensions among the group, which everyone had been doing their best to ignore, are rising at a lightning-fast rate. Futaba stays huddled in her corner, curled in a ball, her hands pressed over her ears, unnoticed by the rest of the group, as she tries to block out memories of yelling and coldness and angry adults in suits. 

Akira instinctively looks to the spot next to him, which he always did when he felt most anxious or unsure or scared, expecting to see a shock of bleach-blond hair and a toothy grin that always managed to tug a smile out of him in response. But there’s no one there. He’s alone. And... 

It’s _his_ fault. He _let_ that happen. He was too much of a coward back then to do nothing but stand frozen as his best friend walked out of his life for good, just like how he’s too much of a coward now to be the leader his team needs him to be. But he can’t, he _can’t_ be Joker, because as much as he tries to be, he’s _not_ some amazing unshakeable being. He’s…he’s just a dumb kid. And he wouldn’t be here in the position he’s in if it hadn’t been for the one who was there for him every step of the way, who was at his side no matter what, who burned with passion for the Phantom Thieves’ purpose so strongly that it kept Akira going even on his worst days.

But the spot next to him is empty now. And…and…

What is he supposed to do? 

“On second thought, it is no surprise Ryuji chose to leave,” Yusuke continues, glancing to the side. “Not when the people he considered to be his good friends think of him in such a way.”

“Oh, is _that_ what you were going on about before?” Ann snaps. “You say that as if you’re blameless from it all. You don’t exactly have a high opinion of him either! You think he’s a brute!”

“Are you referring to when I first met him?” Yusuke blinks. “Is it truly fair to compare my first impression of him to your view of him after knowing him since middle school?”

“That’s not - ”

“Perhaps something personal _did_ happen before the three of us joined?” Makoto says, sounding so strangely unsure of herself. “Is that why Morgana snapped at him even though they were on the same side about stealing Okumura’s Treasure?”

“Nothing personal happened!” Ann insists. “And we’re _still_ not necessarily infiltrating his Palace anyway!”

“Why not?” Morgana exclaims. “You’re seriously not even going to try? I thought I taught you guys better than that!”

“Th-that’s not fair,” Makoto says. “The circumstances are different and much too questionable - ”

“We know he’s a bad person,” Ann says. “And, well, it’s still not safe for us to really do anything, but…” She falters. “Can we really just let him get away with all his crimes like that?”

“We shouldn’t decide this here,” Makoto says. “We should take some time, perhaps let the fad die down - ”

“And if we don’t have time?” Yusuke asks. “I admit that patience is a virtue, and the circumstances are much stranger this time around, but…what if it is indeed too late by the time we decide to act? Such as what happened with Kamoshida, and Shi - ”

“ _Don’t_.” One could almost see the fire swirling around Ann.“ _Don’t_ talk about that.”

“E-even so!” Makoto tries again. “We can’t just - ” 

“I thought the Phantom Thieves were supposed to pursue justice.” This time it’s Haru that speaks up. She looks miffed. “If I hadn’t found Mona, would you really have just decided to ignore the needs of the public? The havoc my father is wreaking on his company? Do you even know what you’re fighting for anymore?”

Makoto flinches. “Well - ”

“Obviously not.” Morgana’s tail swishes. “They don’t want to save him, apparently. They don’t know right from wrong anymore. They can’t even distinguish true worth in their teammates. Not even their leader.”

All eyes turn on Akira.

All this time, he’s been frozen, struggling to figure out what to say, but…what _could_ he say? How on Earth was he supposed to be able to diffuse a situation like this? With everyone tearing at each other’s throats? This - this isn’t - 

“I used to think highly of you,” Morgana says. “But considering the company you keep, I’m not sure why I ever did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ann crosses her arms. 

“What, are you too good for us now?” Futaba scowls. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You guys are all just cowards!” Morgana yells. “All of you! First you didn’t want to go after Okumura, and now you’re chasing after someone like Ryuji? You’re better off without - ”

“Ryuji?”

Morgana stops, realizing his mistake too late. 

“So by Skull, you were speaking of Ryuji?” Haru asks. Something seems to click within her. “As in, Ryuji Sakamoto?”

“Do you know him?” Futaba asks.

“Know him? Yes, I know him.”

She smiles sweetly, but her eyes are like daggers. “He’s spoken about his old friends before. I never would have guessed that he had meant the Phantom Thieves themselves.”

A wordless fury emanates from her, so great that all the heat and fire built from their arguments is sucked out of the air in a flash. The Thieves go silent, as they begin to see a glimpse of all the power she truly holds, power she keeps restrained and hidden during everyday life behind a polite exterior. But not now.

“How dare you.” Her cavalier hat casts a dark shadow over her face, causing the fury in her eyes to glint in bright pinpricks. “How dare you all speak so lowly of him! He’s the only person who wanted to befriend me because of who _I_ am and not because of who my father happens to be! He always tries to put my happiness above all else, even his own! And even when he isn’t sure how to help me, he tries with his whole heart, because that’s who he is!"

Ann looks away. Akira glances at her for a quick second, to see her clenching her eyes shut, as if remembering something painful.

"But instead of appreciating this, you ridiculed him and insulted his intelligence?" Haru accuses. "How _dare_ you!”

Around him, he can feel everyone wincing in discomfort. 

“He risked his life the same as the rest of you!” Haru's yelling now, and Akira swears he almost sees a flash of gold in her eyes. “And you all had the nerve to cast him aside like trash?”

“N-no,” Morgana protests feebly. “That isn’t - well - ”

Haru whips around to face Morgana. “I thought you were better than this, Mona-chan,” she says, and Morgana wilts. “You spoke so much about how everyone made you feel useless, but in reality you made him feel the same way! How can I sympathize with you about that anymore?”

Morgana bows his head. She huffs.

Her eyes find Akira’s.

“And you.” Her voice lowers. “He trusted you the most.”

Akira’s heart cracks.

“We’re leaving,” she announces. She takes a deep breath. Her voice cools over like steel. “Please, do not contact us again. I promise, my ax is not for show.”

She turns, and suddenly Akira gets the sinking feeling that she _means_ it, and she really won’t let them talk to her again, and if she walks away there’s no chance he’ll ever get Morgana _or_ Ryuji back. Panic seizes him, and he opens his mouth to speak, but the words stick in his throat, and oh God why now why again _why now_ \- 

“W-wait!”

Haru pauses. 

From the corner, Futaba stands, still huddled in on herself, still shaking, but determined. 

“Please.” Her voice cracks. “Please just hear me out.”

She almost looks like she’s going to curl in on herself again, what with everyone’s full attention on her, but when Haru turns to face her, she still speaks. “D-don’t…don’t yell at them. This whole thing…it’s all my fault.”

“Futaba,” Makoto says gently. “That isn’t true.”

“It is,” Futaba insists. “I-it all lines up! You guys keep saying how Ryuji and Morgana always fought ever since they met, but nothing like this ever happened before. Not…not until I joined the team.”

“No,” Ann says, completely guilt-stricken. “Futaba, don’t think like that - ”

“I know I’m not always easy to deal with!” Futaba bursts. “I-I’m still not that used to having friends that I can talk to in person, and I’m not good at picking up on…social cues and nuances…” She says those words almost like they’re foreign. “A-and I know that I’m the one who took over Morgana’s navigation role, but I never really brought it up or talked about it with him because I didn’t know how, and I should’ve realized it might make him feel not so good about himself, but then it was too late and Morgana snapped, and…”

She sniffs. “J-jeez…apologizing in person…in front of so many people…it’s like automatically putting everything on extra-hard mode…but…” She shakes her head. “I’m the reason he felt like that. And that’s why he took more offense to what Ryuji said as a joke, instead of reacting like he normally would. So…it’s my fault. And I’m sorry, Mona.”

“Futaba…” Morgana is stunned. 

“A-and I wasn’t nice to Ryuji, either!” Futaba rushes onwards. “He…he’d always play video games and eat snacks and rant about manga with me. And he understood me for not liking coffee. A-and he understood memes! He’d always make me laugh with them.” She stops, sniffing again. “I know that he says dumb things sometimes, and makes dumb mistakes, but…we always wrote it off as ‘Ryuji being Ryuji,’ and that wasn’t fair. He helped me get to where I am today…and…I still messed up.”

She looks around, growing more and more flustered by their shocked silence.

“S-so…that’s it, right?” she asks, biting her lip. “Mission completed? Achievement unlocked? I-is that how it works? Does this mean everyone will stop fighting? I just…” She takes off her goggles, but still keeps her eyes trained on the ground as she wipes at her tears. “I want my friends back. I want Morgana and Ryuji back. I want our team back together. Please?”

Tears drip on the ground in front of her. Akira steps closer to Futaba, and she latches onto him, her tears soaking into his shirt. 

How long had she been feeling like this? How long had she been working up the courage to say this? And…why hadn’t he been there for her? Bitterness courses through him. Some friend he is. He hadn’t been the leader they needed him to be, and now Futaba’s crying because she thought everything was her fault and had been beating herself up over completely undeserved guilt. 

“Haru.” Yusuke speaks up, his voice somber. “I…I must disagree with Futaba, in that I believe we are all to blame for this situation. I must apologize to Morgana as well. And even if Morgana had not snapped at Ryuji, the way we have treated Ryuji all this time is still inexcusable.”

“Yes,” Makoto agrees. She still looks so unsure of what to do, but her words are firm. “I understand if you may not want to work with us, but…could we at least take some time to talk things through? Your input is something we very much need right now. Both in terms of our future goals…as well as improving our team itself.”

Haru is silent, as she looks at all of them. Then her expression softens.

“Of course,” she says. “I believe a discussion would be best. I apologize for yelling.”

“No,” Makoto says. To everyone’s surprise, she chuckles. “If anything, we should be thanking you for that.”

—-

“Sakamoto-kun!”

Ryuji looks around to find the source, just having exited the rooftop (how on Earth did Haru manage to do everything on her own before? That shit took him _hours_ ), to see someone waving at him at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh, hey, Mishima.” He makes his way down the stairs. “What’s up?”

Upon closer look, Mishima looks…nervous? Hesitant? He’s nowhere near the person he was back under Kamoshida’s rule. He’s still quiet, but he stands taller, and his eyes no longer scour every inch of the school in search of any signs of a certain someone approaching, and he even smiles more. But, as he looks back down at his phone, which he’s holding in a white-knuckled grip, that same timidity from before, although to a lesser degree, starts to roll off him in waves. The kind of timidity where he’s unsure of whether or not to say what’s on his mind, for fear of the reaction that may follow. 

“Is everything okay?” Ryuji asks, deciding to test the waters. “You know you don’t have to be scared of me or anything, right?”

“I know that,” Mishima says. “But…um…”

He looks up at him, then back at his phone. 

“You don’t…” He swallows. “You don’t live with your dad anymore, right?” 

What? 

His heart starts to hammer, just at the thought of it, as he remembers loud crashes and screaming and the smell of booze - 

“That’s right,” he hears himself say, distantly. “What - what’s this all about?”

Mishima says nothing. He looks up at Ryuji one last time, an unspoken apology swimming in his eyes, as he holds up the phone for Ryuji to see.

It’s the Phantom Aficionado website. Mishima must have been going through the requests. One request, near the top of the screen, catches his eye immediately. His heart, which had continued to hammer away in his chest, seems to freeze.

 _“Amai and Ryuji Sakamoto. Change their hearts. They need to remember who they belong to._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really wanted to play around more with the team dynamics this time around, as well as more of the different sides of what happened? This fic is definitely Ryuji-centric, but there were also some interesting ideas initially brought up in the game at this point in time about how the Phantom Thieves didn't really know what they were doing this for anymore, and they never really got answered in the game. 
> 
> I'm also hoping it doesn't seem like I'm villainizing anyone in the story? No one's completely at fault, but also no one's blameless, and I hope to get into that further later on. 
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking around to this chapter! Updates won't always be this frequent, I just happen to have a lot of free time as of late. In related news, I hope everyone's doing well with the COVID situation happening. Scary stuff, but we got this <3


	4. Chapter 4

“Did you see Ryuji today?”

Ann shakes her head, not even looking up from her phone, and Makoto sighs. They’re sitting in the Student Council room, which is where they normally go to spend lunchtime together, in order to avoid crowded spots like the cafeteria. Normally, Akira would join them, but he’s been oddly absent as of late. 

“There’s still time left in the day,” Ann says. “If anything, you can ask his teacher to send him here after class.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Makoto concedes. “I’d still like to talk to him sooner than later, though…Maybe he’s with Haru. I’ll text her.” 

It’s the day after their meeting with Haru and Morgana. After what happened in Mementos, they’d finally managed to have a real and honest discussion with Haru and Morgana. The team had spoken against every single one of Morgana’s attempts to convince them that the split off should be permanent, like “I can’t have you guys risk your lives anymore for someone useless like me” (which almost made some of them tear up), and “I don’t have anyone I want to save or get revenge on. Someone like me has no reason to stay here” (which _did_ make Makoto tear up, despite how she tried to hide it). And once they convinced him of how much he meant to them, he jumped at the chance to join the team again, and they welcomed him with open arms. 

Haru, on the other hand, had still been hesitant to join, saying she felt like it would be betraying Ryuji’s trust. This led to a whole new conversation on what to do about Ryuji. They decided that their first step would be to convince him to sit down with them and talk things out, as they did with Haru and Morgana. Whether he would even want to see them again, though, was a different matter entirely.

“Are we sure this is the right course of action?”

“Hm?” Makoto sends the text before looking up at Ann. “What do you mean?”

Ann sets her phone to the side. “He wanted to leave, didn’t he? And he seems so much happier with Haru-senpai, from what I’ve heard. Is it right to force him to rejoin the Phantom Thieves?”

“We’re not forcing him to do anything,” Makoto reminds her, finishing her last bit of rice. “At any rate, we should at least attempt to communicate with him somehow. It would allow him to resolve any issues with us, if need be. And it would be in our best interest to avoid having him as a future enemy.”

“Why worry about that? It’s just - ”

Ann catches herself, but they both know what she was about to say. Makoto thinks back to Mementos. 

“You keep doing that.”

“I know, I know.” Ann sighs. “Force of habit.”

“The fact that it even _is_ a habit in the first place is part of what the problem is,” Makoto points out.

Ann bristles. “Yeah, I get it,” Ann says, her eyes flashing. “You don’t have to get all preachy about it.”

“Ann.” Makoto frowns. Ann is _never_ this…prickly. She has her bad moods the same as everyone else does, of course. But she hasn’t acted this hostile towards Makoto ever since their interactions before Makoto first Awakened. That, combined with how she’s been acting as of late… 

“Now that I think about it…” Makoto twirls her chopsticks with her fingers. “You were pretty quiet during the meeting yesterday. Do you have an issue with the prospect of Ryuji joining the team?”

“What? No!” 

“Are you sure?” Makoto pushes her empty lunch box aside, intertwining her fingers together and resting them on the table in front of her. “You _know_ how important it is for us to keep team dynamics in mind now. If there’s anything you want to say - ”

“It’s not like that,” Ann says, shaking her head. “Why would there be any problems like that between us? He’s my friend!”

“So you _do_ consider him a friend?” Makoto can’t hide the surprise in her voice. “I wouldn’t have guessed, based on your previous interactions with him.”

“As if you’d know much about having friends.”

Her words feel like a physical slap to the face. 

“Oh, God, Makoto.” Ann’s eyes go wide. “I - I didn’t mean - ”

Makoto’s temper flares, as Ann’s words bring back every single whisper she’s ever overheard from students gossiping about their stone-cold heartless student council president, every memory of studying after school instead of being invited to hang out with other people since no one wanted anything to do with someone as “boring” and “uptight” as her, every time she was almost crushed by the weight of loneliness. 

Her hands tighten, and her fingernails start digging into the skin of her own hands. There’s no way in _hell_ she’s going to let that slide. She’s not going to let something like this tear the team apart. She’s failed before, but she _can’t_ fail now. She’s going to fix this.

“What is going _on_ with you, Ann?” Makoto’s hands move to the edge of the table. “Why do you keep acting like this?”

“I’m just having a bad day, okay, Makoto?” Ann’s eyes refuse to meet hers, as they dart around the room, like a cornered animal. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

Makoto crosses her arms. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Ann stops for a moment, as she puzzles over Makoto’s words, until she gleans their meaning. “What, you mean Ryuji?” She sighs. “Look, I know that already. Why can’t you all just get off my case?!”

“Because you keep refusing to talk about it!” Makoto leans forward, and in the back of her mind she flashes back to old memories of seeing Sae in court, her prosecuting badge gleaming in all its glory as she leans forward, pressing the truth out of defendants one question at a time. Something bittersweet fills her, and she shakes the memories out of her head. “We can’t keep avoiding this. Maybe you don’t think highly of my ability to be a good friend. That’s fine. It doesn’t change the fact that I still care about you, and I want to know what’s going on.”

Ann scoffs, although she’s still not looking Makoto in the eye. “Right. I’m telling you, everything is fine! Can we just - ”

“Were we right in what we said yesterday?” Makoto drums her fingers on the table. “Did something personal happen between you two?”

“No! Nothing like that - ”

“There _must_ be a reason behind your hostility. If nothing happened between you two, why did you say all those things about him? Why do you treat him like - ”

_“ Because I’m scared of being the dumbest one on the team! ”_

Makoto stops. 

Tears start to fill Ann’s eyes. Her breath hitches as she tries to talk. “It’s - God, it’s stupid - no one ever takes me seriously, okay? To everyone else I’m just another dumb blonde, and people think my looks are the only thing I have going for me, and - and my grades are only better than Ryuji’s because of my English scores! B-but…”

She sniffs. “I-it’s not like I contribute that much to the team either…all of you guys are always so on-the-ball when it comes to Phantom Thieves stuff…and I mean, you’ve probably heard of how all _my_ ideas go, when it comes to acting and whatever…” She cringes. “But everyone always makes fun of Ryuji for his mistakes, and…I…I don’t want to go back to being seen as the good-for-nothing dumb blonde. I _can’t_ go back to people just judging me based on my looks. I thought if everyone stopped making fun of Ryuji as the dumb one, they’d start focusing on me, so…I never said anything. I joined in.”

“Ann…”

“I never meant what I said seriously!” Ann adds hastily. “I always meant them as jokes, and I thought he saw it that way, too. But…I should’ve known better, of course he’d eventually start taking everything seriously. And I didn’t notice.” She hesitates. “No. I did. But…I was too scared to stop everyone.”

Everything starts to click. With an eerie calmness, Makoto says, “Because you thought we’d turn on you instead?” 

Ann winces. “It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid, I know you guys are my friends and that I can trust you…but I was just so scared. And I…I just _let_ him suffer from being the team’s laughingstock, just because I was too much of a coward to let you guys judge me like everyone else does, and…even after he left, I kept trying to make fun of him…I - I’m such an awful friend, I can’t believe - ”

Makoto reaches across the table to take her hand, and Ann immediately breaks down in tears. 

First Futaba, now Ann…how could she not have noticed everyone carrying such heavy burdens? She had always believed everyone on the team trusted each other fully, but…in retrospect, that was foolish of her. She should have known. 

She stands and walks around the table to be on Ann’s side. The distance between them closes, as Ann hugs her tightly, but in Makoto’s head she can finally see the widening gaps and cracks between everyone on the team, all of their hearts shrouded in sadness and hurt and doubt and distrust. 

For everyone to hold secrets and feelings as deep as this…the team is more broken than she ever could have imagined.

\---

_Ring…ring…ring…ring…_

_“Haru? Somethin’ wrong?”_

Haru smiles involuntarily at the sound of his voice. She shifts into a more comfortable position, sitting in front of one of the flowerbeds on the rooftop. It’s chilly today, and the wind nips at her more ferociously than normal, but the sun still shines as brightly as ever. “Hi, Ryuji-kun. I was just wondering where you were. You’re never late for lunch.”

On the other end, she hears him let out a small sigh. _“Shit, I’m sorry. I shoulda told you sooner - I can’t meet up today. I, uh, gotta make up some work.”_

“Oh, I see. It’s no issue! Would you like my help?”

_“It’s okay. This is somethin’ I gotta do alone. I appreciate you offerin’, though.”_

“Of course.” She pauses. “You never told me you were a Phantom Thief.”

He lets out a choked sputter. She resists the urge to laugh at his reaction. _“Wh - I’m not - you - that’s not - ”_

“It’s okay, Ryuji-kun. I’ve been in the Metaverse multiple times.”

_“You what?!”_

This time she does laugh, as she recounts everything that’s happened, from her finding Morgana, to finding her father’s Palace, to meeting the Phantom Thieves in Mementos. She makes sure to keep her voice down, and to keep a careful eye on the rooftop door, but thankfully she remains undisturbed.

Ryuji is completely quiet as she speaks. And when she finishes, everything is completely silent, save the sound of the wind whipping around her. 

_“So Morgana’s back on the team…”_ Ryuji mutters, sounding deep in thought. Then he snorts. _“Can’t believe you actually yelled at him.”_

Haru grins cheekily. “You can say I learned a thing or two from a certain someone about making my voice heard.”

_“I don’t know if our friendship making you a louder person is a good thing.”_

She laughs at that. But then she quickly sobers, hesitating. “You should also know…” Her grip on her phone tightens involuntarily. She has no idea how he’s going to react to this. “They asked if I wanted to join them, as well.” 

A beat. 

_“And what did you say?”_

“I told them I wanted to talk to you first.” She clenches and unclenches her free hand involuntarily. “I know they were your old friends. And…even after everything they said yesterday, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with joining people who have hurt you. It would be a betrayal of your trust.”

 _“Haru, that…”_ Ryuji struggles for a moment to find the right words. _“I mean, I appreciate that, really, but…you don’t have to do that for me.”_

A conflicting combination of emotions start to mix in her chest. She wants to be able to pursue justice as a Phantom Thief and change her father’s heart and help the rest of the thieves with finding their purpose again, but…she can’t do that to him. She can’t. “Please don’t be modest, Ryuji-kun. If you have any aversion to me joining the Phantom Thieves, I will gladly - ”

_“It ain’t like that. It’s as simple as this: do you wanna be a Phantom Thief?”_

“I - yes, but - ”

_“Well, there you go.”_

“Ryuji-kun.” She huffs, partly out of frustration. “It’s not as simple as that, I can’t just - ”

_“I ain’t dumb, I know how passionate you are about your own justice, I’ve listened to how much you’d fangirl over the Phantom Thieves - "_

“None of that matters, if it means upsetting you - ”

_“Haru, I’m not gonna be the one to stop you from changing your dad’s heart!”_

Haru’s thrown off guard for a second. 

Ryuji sighs. _“Sorry. Shouldn’t’ve yelled. I’ve been tryin’ to work on my own volume and shit, but…anyway. Haru, this is your_ dad _we’re talkin’ about.”_

“I - I know that, however - ”

_“What kinda friend would I be if I tried to stop you from doin’ something you’re so passionate about? And besides…you’ve got the chance to save your dad from corruption. If I were the one to take that away from you…I’d never forgive myself.”_

The pain in his voice is so overwhelming, it makes her falter. Now that she thinks about it, he’s never spoken about his father. She knows that he only lives with his mother, and that his father is no longer a part of their lives, but she never had reason to question that. But from that, she can only assume… 

“Ryuji-kun…”

_“Hell, I wouldn’t even be mad if you and them became friends. I ain’t like that, y’know? I know they’ll be nice to you.”_

She bites her lip. “You…you’re sure - ”

 _“Haru.”_ He chuckles. _“Seriously. Go join ‘em. Save your dad.”_

The mix in her chest swirls, before dissipating into…relief, almost. Relief that he isn’t angry, that he supports her, that he won’t… 

“You’re a good friend, Ryuji-kun.”

He huffs. She can almost _see_ him rolling his eyes. _“Shouldn’t I be sayin’ that to you? Anyway, I’m real sorry I can’t help you with the gardening today.”_

“Please don’t stress about that.” Her smile shifts into a frown. “Although, make sure you don’t exhaust yourself. Are you okay?”

 _“Ha.”_ Her frown deepens. Even with just that, she can tell that he sounds so much more tired than normal. Why hadn’t she noticed sooner? _“Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”_

The bell rings.

 _“Ouch. I can hear that all the way from here_ .” Another laugh. _“Good luck with everything."_

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

He hesitates, for just a moment too long. _“...Yeah. Bye, Haru_.”

 _Click_ . 

\---

The Shibuya Underground Walkway is as lively as ever, Yusuke muses, as he surveys his surroundings from his usual spot. People don’t even give him a second look, too busy trying to rush to their next destinations to pay attention to a random unassuming teenager such as himself. Fortunately for him.

He supposes it’s odd, in a sense, to feel alone in somewhere as crowded as this, but it’s a solitude he finds comfort in. The chatter and footsteps and other random assortment sounds that arise from people bustling have become so familiar that they almost lull his brain into a state of focus, sharpening his vision to allow him to truly perceive everything happening around him. The bright splashes of color from the lights and signs and advertisements, setting a background for all the people that come and go with their own auras and colors and wealth of expressions, combined with how those people interact with both the world and each other…it all fit together as one. Not perfectly or rigidly, like a jigsaw puzzle, but in a way that’s more abstract, in bursts and spikes and empty spots and messy lines.

Yet, as he’s watching, something catches his eye. He turns his head, just in time to see a familiar figure with bleached-blond hair and a bright yellow graphic T-shirt. 

“Ryuji?”

Ryuji’s eyes meet his. He seems oddly guarded for some reason. Almost secretive. For a moment, he thinks Ryuji’s going to run away, based on what Makoto had told the rest of them about her and Akira’s encounter with Ryuji a few days ago. But eventually, Ryuji swallows, and approaches him. 

“Hey, Yusuke,” Ryuji says. “Need somethin’?”

He sounds…amicable enough. Not frightened, which is always a good start. But he looks so pale and washed out, it’s almost like the brightness of his shirt is drowning him out. Yusuke feels a pang of guilt. Is this…because of them? 

“I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Yusuke says. “Are you doing well?”

“Oh.” Ryuji blinks. “I’m okay, I guess. You?”

“I’m doing alright.” He pauses to consider something. He hadn’t expected to see Ryuji here, since from what he’s seen Ryuji usually doesn’t come to Shibuya at this hour. But now that he _is_ here…

“Truthfully, I’d like to apologize.”

Ryuji blinks again, taken aback. “Uh…what do you mean?”

“We didn’t treat you the way friends or teammates should.” He turns regretful. “We wrote off your abilities far too quickly, despite how much you’ve done for us. The team misses you greatly.”

“Do they?” A shadow of a sneer crosses his face. “Is it ‘cause they miss having an extra meat shield around? Or is Akira tired of havin’ to carry extra Electric Personas?”

“Akira is not as superficial as you make him out to be,” Yusuke says. “He cares about you. Much more than a friend.”

Ryuji stiffens at that. An unreadable emotion laces his next words. “If _Akira_ cares,” he says slowly. “He sure as hell hasn’t shown it.”

Yusuke says nothing, choosing instead to study Ryuji’s face. His anger is not the loud impulsive kind he’s come to associate with him, but rather slow and bitter and cold. Yet, also…defeated, in a way. As if he’s tired of continuing to be plagued by this anger. 

“You don’t have to lie, Yusuke,” Ryuji says, looking away. “Don’t know why you all would suddenly start appreciatin’ me or seein’ me as someone important, especially since you never did before - ”

“I did.”

“Don’t give me that sh - ”

“I still remember when you leapt in front of a cab just to give us a chance to get to Makoto and her captors in time.”

Ryuji grimaces at the memory. “Shit, that was a while ago. I didn’t realize - ” 

“You posted calling cards all over Shibuya to get Kaneshiro’s attention. You always invite me to get ramen with you even knowing you would have to pay for my food every time. You apologize every time someone heals you because you fear being a burden. Not to mention how your brashness on the front lines during battle is truly just a maneuver to get Shadows to focus on you instead of the rest of the team - ”

“Dude.” He reddens. “I - God, I - I didn’t realize you noticed all that.”

“I’m an artist,” Yusuke points out. “It’s my job to notice the smaller details.”

Ryuji doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Yusuke continues.

“I must admit, I still find it hard to speak my mind at times,” he says. “Especially since I’ve lived almost my entire life being punished for doing so. I know you think many of your gestures go unappreciated, and I’m sorry for leaving my own appreciation unsaid for so long. I see you as much more than some kind of brute. Your personality and energy is quite beautiful in its explosiveness, and complements the team wonderfully. It is something I have attempted to capture on paper multiple times.”

Yusuke pauses. His next words come out much more pained. 

“And I am also sorry for contributing to the neglect of your feelings that you have experienced from the team…when I should have known better, again considering what Sen - Madarame did to me.”

“Yusuke…”

Ryuji’s at a complete loss, eyes completely round and unblinking, so taken aback that it makes Yusuke wonder if this is one of the first genuine apologies he’s ever received. Although…that shouldn’t be the case, right? Didn’t the team agree to…

“Am I the first from the team to speak with you about this?” Yusuke asks. “Did you not see the rest of them during school?”

Ryuji winces at that, for some reason. “I, um…no, I didn’t.” 

“How strange.”

“But, I just - wow, dude.” He shakes his head, still stunned. “I - I don’t know if I deserve all that. Hell, I’m sorry, too. I always call you a weirdo and shit.”

“Yes.” Yusuke nods. “Because you, as well as the rest of the team, are very aware that I am quite used to others viewing me as eccentric, and thus know that I do not take offense to that. That happens to be very different to the current circumstances.”

“I guess so.” He scratches his head sheepishly. “Anyway, I - thanks, man. I…really needed to hear that. You’re…you’re a really great guy, Yusuke.”

Ryuji smiles, and there’s a warmth there, more akin to the Ryuji that Yusuke is accustomed to. A warmth that is practically infectious, spreading in Yusuke’s chest up to his own smile. “Don’t mention it.”

“Hey, um…” His smile fades, replaced with an uncertainty. “Can I…can I ask you about…”

He stops himself, looking down. 

“No,” he mutters, so quietly Yusuke almost doesn’t hear him. “I can’t ask that of you…I gotta do this on my own.”

“Ryuji?”

He looks up. He smiles again, but this time it’s empty.

“Never mind.” He claps Yusuke on the shoulder, and Yusuke suddenly realizes how much he _missed_ this, the friendly touches and kind gestures that came so easily, so naturally, with Ryuji’s friendship. That is, until…they didn’t. 

But…when had that changed? When did everything change? There must have been some point in time when Ryuji stopped going along with their jokes, and started taking them to heart, right? Was it just because of time? Or was it because of…something else? Yusuke thinks back, trying to pinpoint what could have changed something, but… 

“I gotta go,” Ryuji says, completely unaware of Yusuke’s train of thought. “Seriously. Thank you for all that. It…means a lot.”

“I’m sorry I never said it sooner,” Yusuke replies simply. “Must you leave right now? The rest of the team would love the chance to speak with you as well.”

“Do they really…” Ryuji stops himself, then shakes his head. “Sorry. But I really can’t stay today. Gotta help my mom with somethin’.” He shrugs wryly. “Guess that’s how it is. But…”

He hesitates. His expression turns solemn.

“I’ll talk to you again soon,” he says. “I promise.”

Something nags at Yusuke at that, and he can’t help but notice how uncertain he looked when he said “I promise,” and how his goodbye feels oddly _final_.

But before he can say anything, Ryuji disappears into the crowd, becoming just another splash of color on the canvas of Shibuya.

\---

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Akira looks up from wiping the counter down, at the sound of the tinkling of the front door’s bell and the all-too-familiar voice. He puts on his usual customer-service smile, setting his washcloth aside.

“I do work here,” Akira says wryly. Then, in a more polite voice, “Good afternoon, Akechi.”

Akechi chuckles, sliding onto a stool in front of Akira. “Good afternoon. And I’m quite aware. But school just ended, no? You usually don’t arrive until later into the evening.”

Trust Akechi to notice things like that. He shrugs. “Sojiro wasn’t feeling well today. What’ll it be?”

“Whatever you recommend.” Akechi pushes out a few neatly-folded bills on the counter. 

“Coming right up.”

Akira counts out the bills, even though he knows it’ll be the correct amount, and gets to work. His hands move deftly, almost automatically, as the smell of coffee intensifies. The quiet conversations of the customers - an old couple at the booth furthest from the door, and two middle-aged men almost completely shielded from view by their newspapers - as well as the chatter from the TV and the buzzing from the old coffee machines swirl to create a comforting hum in the back of his mind as he works. 

“Are you feeling alright, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira glances up at his question. Akechi’s resting his chin on his hand. Did he notice something? Did Akira give something away? Akira gives a shrug, careful not to let any surprise or panic show. “I’m fine. Maybe a little tired.”

“I’m not surprised.” Akechi smiles. “Considering how much you seem to do every day.”

 _If only you knew_. Akira suppresses a sigh, as he turns his focus back to his current task. Reminders of what he has to do for the rest of the week poke at him. Meet Yoshida tonight, buy supplies for their trip to the Metaverse right after school, get Chihaya to read his fortune…he also has to work a shift at the beef bowl shop, but hadn’t Shinya wanted to meet up with him on that day? Or was it Ann? Akira shakes his head to clear his thoughts, already starting to feel the beginning of a headache pounding at the base of his skull. 

“I would advise you to get more rest.” Akechi continues talking, his voice dragging Akira out of his thoughts. “But that would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Akira answers, immediately seizing the opportunity to flip the conversation around. “You look just as tired as me. Busy day at work?”

“You could say that.” Akira can feel Akechi’s eyes on him as he fiddles with the coffee machine. “I’ve been working on a rather tiring case as of late.”

“Phantom Thieves again?” Akira asks, dryness seeping into his tone.

Akechi chuckles, somehow managing to sound both tired and amused at the same time. “Surprisingly, no. There have been multiple reports of a drunkard assaulting people in Shinjuku. From what we know so far, he’s from out of town, and is apparently…’searching’ for something. He’s been causing quite the stir.”

Akira nods, although his mind gets partly occupied halfway through when the coffee machine blips. Drunkards in Shinjuku? Well. No surprise there. He pours the coffee into a new mug. The mug warms his hands. He places it in front of Akechi.

“There you go.”

“Thank you, Kurusu-kun.” Akechi’s smile widens, almost imperceptibly. But it’s enough to make him look so completely different compared to his usual polite restrained facade, that it gives Akira pause. “I’m sure it will be as lovely as always.”

“I’ll only know when you try it,” Akira responds smoothly, covering up his momentary confusion. 

“Fair enough.” 

Akira studies him, as he sips at his coffee, that smile from earlier nagging at him. Akechi always talks in secrets and intricacies. Every single meeting with him is another puzzle Akira has to solve. Even after all this time, he still doesn’t think he fully understands Akechi, no matter how friendly and polite he acts. He hides behind layers upon layers of shadow, and Akira feels he’s only managed to break through the first few, if at all. 

Sometimes, when he looks at Akechi, it feels like looking in a mirror. A strange, twisted mirror.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his phone buzzing. He walks to where he’d put it on the counter and picks it up, reading the new notification.

_Ann Takamaki: has anyone seen Ryuji today?_

Akira’s mind goes completely blank for a moment. Besides the feeling of his phone pressing into his palm, everything else fades, as every single emotion he’s locked away ever since Ryuji left threatens to resurface. Instead of his phone screen in front of him, all he sees are old memories, of smiles and laughter and video games and fishing and movies. He sees the bond between them, like a thin red string of light, continuing to strengthen every time they spent time together, and sometimes, during quiet moments when it’d feel like they were the only two people in the world, promising to change into something _more_ than what they already had…

Until…

_Red lights. A bustling street corner. Seductive leers and sultry words and suggestive forceful touches, all laser-focused on someone who looks so, so haunted, shrinking into himself, more afraid than he’s ever looked before, even on Palace and Mementos trips. Two burly men in gaudy clothing and reeking of perfume and alcohol, dragging his own best friend away. As all Akira does is watch._

_Shinjuku._

His eyes flick away from his phone, down at the floor, for a split second. And in that split second, he doesn’t notice how Akechi has a clear view of his phone screen, nor is he able to see anything from his peripheral vision. And he doesn’t notice how Akechi’s mouth straightens into a razor-sharp edge, as the shadows crossing his face darken for a moment, and puzzle pieces start to click into place in Akechi’s mind. 

“Kurusu-kun.”

Akechi’s voice drags Akira back into reality. Akira startles, looking up from his phone. Akechi rests his chin on his hand, searching Akira up and down. “Is everything alright?”

Akira looks back at his phone, rattled by how he’d almost lost complete control of himself, how his mask feels seconds away from slipping. He shoves the phone in his pocket. “Can I ask you something, Akechi?”

“You just did.” Akechi tilts his head, the ghost of a mischievous smile playing on his lips. At any other time, Akira would have laughed. “But please, go ahead.”

He can’t believe he’s telling Akechi this much. He can’t believe he’s even _entertaining_ this idea. But…his mind is still reeling, and the spot to his right feels emptier than ever, and… 

“Have you…” He pauses, as the words refuse to connect in his head. He tries again, his voice low and on the verge of shaking. “Have you ever lost a best friend?”

This seems to strike something. Akechi puts down his cup. The noise of the cafe dies, the world tunneling, as he appraises Akira with an unexpected intensity. 

“If I may be honest with you,” Akechi says finally, his voice quiet. “I’ve never had people I could consider ‘friends’ in the past.”

Oh. Akira almost wants to apologize, but there’s no sadness in Akechi’s voice, as Akechi continues to speak.

“Truthfully, I never cared much,” Akechi says. “I was…far too enveloped in my own studies and pursuing my career goals, that I never bothered to carve out time to form deeper relationships with my peers. So, to answer your question, no.” He tilts his head. “I’m sorry that I can’t help you in that regard.”

“No.” Akira shakes his head, part of him still processing Akechi’s words. “Don’t apologize. It…it was stupid of me to ask, anyway.”

Akechi hums, lifting his cup again to take another sip, as the conversation lapses into silence. 

Outside the window, the sun begins to set, casting soft orange hues inside. The air almost seems to slow, as the cafe’s atmosphere adapts the cozy stillness that stands in direct contrast with the never-sleeping city of Tokyo. He can see in the way everyone’s shoulders relax almost involuntarily, including Akechi’s, whose nose is now buried in a book, as the place Sojiro has painstakingly crafted himself that serves as a second home for the people in Yongen-Jaya enwraps them in wafts of fresh coffee and old newspapers and savory curry. 

The old couple sitting in the corner booth move to leave, waving goodbye to Akira. He goes to their booth to clear their plates. After he washes them in the sink, he walks back to the counter, checking his phone for the time. Huh. Almost closing time already? Time sure does fly.

“Why did you ask me about that?”

Akechi’s looking at him, his attention no longer on his book. Akira puts his phone on the counter, frowning. 

“Ask you about wh - ” Akira stops. “Oh.”

“You said it was stupid to ask.” He fiddles with the edge of a page in his book between his thumb and index finger as he speaks, a habit Akira has noticed of him that signals when he’s in deep thought. “So why did you?”

Why did he? Akira sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he says. “What do you expect me to say?”

“You asked because you still care about your friend, right?” Akechi says simply, as if completely unaware of the weight of his words. “If you didn’t care about them or miss them, you wouldn’t have brought it up at all.”

“I…” Akira trails off, thrown off guard by how…genuine Akechi’s acting right now. He’s not doing this out of politeness, nor is he putting on any kind of façade. He didn’t have to continue this conversation at all, but…he chose to, anyway. Why? 

“Why not talk to them?” Akechi continues. “I’m sure it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ve tried. But…” He lowers his head, as he remembers the look of fear in Ryuji’s eyes. He shakes his head again, guilt gnawing at him with sharp teeth. “It’s my fault for losing him.” He sounds so defeated, even to his own ears. “I can’t ask him to forgive me. I…I can’t hurt him again.”

When Akira dares to look up again, Akechi is silent. His gaze drifts to Akira’s left. 

“To blame yourself after losing someone…” Akechi murmurs. “I know the feeling well.”

Flashbacks of a different time in Leblanc pass through Akira’s head, during a hot summer day, with Akechi sitting in front of him in the same spot he’s in now, eyes downcast, more disheartened than Akira had ever seen him before. The first time Akechi had come to Leblanc.

_“Apparently, my mother was in a relationship with some low-life of a man. She was swiftly discarded when he learned she was pregnant…That despair would lead to her death.”_

“I won’t ask you of the specifics,” Akechi says, turning back to him, and Akira realizes with a start that Akechi was looking at the Sayuri painting. “As I said, I did not have…the highest opinion, of going out of one’s way to befriend others. No one had seemed interesting enough to make me want to get to know them beyond just a surface level.” 

He pauses. “Ever since I met you, however, I’ve had to…reconsider my viewpoint on that.” He shrugs, then smiles, with nothing but pure honesty. “I suppose I just hadn’t met the right person yet.”

Akechi chuckles, and Akira returns his smile, but inside he feels sick to his stomach. How many people have told him this? Claiming he changed their lives, or impacted them forever? Why do so many people think they can rely on him? He forces his hands into the pockets of his apron, to hide how his hands are clenched into fists to keep them from trembling, so tightly that his fingernails bite into his palms.

When will they realize…that they’re wrong? That he’s not anyone special? That all their positive views of him are unfounded, and that he’s nothing more than a regular teenager who can’t even prevent himself from freezing up, not even when his friends need him? 

“So I suppose what I’m trying to say is…” Akechi closes his book. “If it is causing you this much distress…I believe speaking with your friend is still worthwhile.”

“You think so?”

Akechi nods. “You never know when it may be too late.”

There’s a strange glint in Akechi’s eyes now…almost an understanding. A knowingness. An…empathy? And Akira feels that spark of kinship again, the same spark he feels every single time he sees Akechi, that they’re more similar than Akira could ever know, but…how was that possible? No, it’s…it’s just his imagination, right? 

Akira wants to ask more about what he means, why it seems like he knows something that Akira doesn’t, why he’s being so _genuine_ with him, but Akechi stands, slipping his book in his bag. 

“Thank you for the coffee,” Akechi says, beaming. “It was as delightful as always.”

Akechi walks out. Akira can see his shadow long after Akechi has disappeared from view. 

_You never know when it may be too late_.

Akira takes out his phone again. He ignores the flashing icon of the Phantom Thieves chat, instead scrolling through his contacts. His thumb hovers over a certain name. He takes a deep breath, his heart pounding so quickly he’s half-convinced it’s going to burst out of his ribcage. 

He taps on the name. 

The phone seems to ring for an eternity.

\---

Somewhere, deep in the Shibuya station, hidden from the view of bystanders in a shadowed corner, stands Ryuji, with a bag slung over his shoulder. He holds his phone out in front of him, the bright red of the Metanav app glaring back at him. Yet just as he’s about to activate it… 

His phone rings, startling him so hard he fumbles his phone. Thankfully, he manages to catch it, only to stop in his tracks once he sees the caller ID. 

There’s a pause, one that seems to stretch for ages. Trains continue running, as people hurry up and down the walkway. The commotion of the station hammers in his ears, almost drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat.

The phone continues to ring.

With a shaking hand, he answers the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for not updating last Saturday, and for being pretty inactive this past week. Long story short? COVID sucks, and it is ruining my life. 
> 
> I might not be able to update this as frequently as I'd promised in the past, meaning I might miss a few Saturdays. The next chapter is also going to be pretty crazy, which is another reason why it might take a tad longer. Sorry :(
> 
> Thank you again for all of your support, your kudoses (what's the plural form for kudos???), your comments, etc. I still can't believe how many people like this fic, especially considering how it's my first time writing fanfiction?? Absolutely insane. You're all wonderful. 
> 
> I hope you're all doing okay. Stay safe <3333


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE I SWEAR

_“Akira?”_

_“Ryuji.” His voice is breathless, a strange mix of relieved and scared. “I - can we talk? In person?”_

_A wince. “Now ain’t really a good time…”_

_“Oh - I mean - that’s okay! That’s okay.” He’s never heard him like this before. Panicked. Flustered. “Just - I still want to talk. Five minutes. That’s all I ask for.”_

_“...Okay.”_

_\---_

The memories of his phone call prod at Ryuji’s mind. He lets out a weary sigh, as he trudges through the darkness. 

He’s been in Mementos countless times at this point, but being in Mementos _alone_ is a different thing entirely. The shadows cast along the walls, drained of color, seem even more threatening. The only illumination comes from the cracks that run through the floor and ceiling, revealing rivers of dim crimson that reflect off the railroads at his feet . That familiar combination of dread, fear, and adrenaline settles over him, even more stifling than he remembers. He shivers.

He knows where to go. The Metanav app has never led him astray before. It tells him he’s close, that what he’s looking for is somewhere on this floor or the next few floors down. He’s not sure how to feel about that. Is that information a good thing? If it is, why does he still feel so terrified?

An inhuman screech echoes down the corridor and rattles the inside of his skull, followed by a dark bubbling sound. All his hairs stand on end. All he can think is _shit shit shit shit_ as he yanks himself to the side, pressing himself flat against the cold dark wall, willing himself not to move a single muscle. 

Blood pounds in his ears, drowned out by the sound of heavy footsteps and that same inhuman screeching creeping closer and closer, until it’s right in front of him, glowing with a fiery black and red aura. Its empty luminous blue eyes are trained straight ahead. Just being in its vicinity causes cold fear to seize his lungs, as the smell of rotting flesh and rusting iron rises into the air. He forces himself not to gag.

The Shadow continues creeping forward, leaving a trail of toxic sludge in its waste, and Ryuji lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Every cell in his body had been wired to spring at it, and he’d had to use all his willpower to force himself to stay in place. There was no use in leaping at Shadows recklessly anymore, he reminds himself harshly. Not when there are no teammates to protect. Not when he has to save his strength for something far more important.

His grip tightens around his pipe. The coolness of the metal seeps in through his gloves. He hates this place.

_\---_

_“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” His words come tumbling out over each other. “I - I know I screwed up. I should’ve done something earlier - I should’ve stood up for you, when everything started being taken too far. I was an awful friend. And I’m sorry.”_

_“Akira…”_

_“I miss you, Ryuji. I miss you so much. You - you mean the world to me. I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend, and I’m the worst person on the planet if I ever made you think for a second that I don’t love you and that you don’t - ”_

_“Whoa, hold on.” He’s reeling. Did he hear that correctly? “What?”_

_The receiver crackles as Akira sighs. “There’s no point in hiding it anymore, is there?” His voice is a low mumble. “Not like I can make anything worse than it already is. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just…I need you back in my life. Please.”_

_His throat closes up, and it’s all he can do to choke the words out. “No - no, this is just another joke, isn’t it? A sick effin’ prank.”_

_“Ryuji - ”_

_“If you ‘love’ me, you sure have a funny way of showin’ it.”_

\---

A flash of movement catches his attention from the corner of his eye. Ryuji whirls around just in time to see a silhouette leap back into the darkness.

He blinks. Rubs his eyes. Stares. There’s no sign of that silhouette ever having been there. What was that? Another person? No, that’s impossible, there’s no way anyone else could be down here besides - well, _them_ \- but that figure didn’t look like anyone he knew.

Was that just his eyes playing tricks on him? Could be. He keeps walking, throwing cautious glances behind him every few minutes. He feels like he’s going crazy.

Somewhere deep within his mind, in the chamber reserved specifically for communicating with his inner self, Captain Kidd lets out a rumble of warning. He looks to the left, to see the railroads up ahead lift from the ground, twisting and coiling in a mess of misshapen metal and a blaze of bright red. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and the Metanav blips. 

The sight of the distortion is familiar. What’s not familiar is the heavy stench of alcohol that permeates the air, and the sound of shattering glass that seems to originate from beyond the curved rails. He remembers a voice, dark and loud and slurred, and he remembers cowering in corners and closets from stinging words and painful lashes and cruel touches. 

Bile rises in his throat. He can’t do this. He _can’t_. Why in hell did he think he’d be strong enough to face off against something like this? He was never good enough for the team - why did he think he’d be good enough on his own?

He wants to run. Run away, like the coward he is. He _knows_ how to run, he knows it’ll only take him seconds to put at least a few hundred meters between himself and - and _this._

But he can’t run this time. 

_Amai and Ryuji Sakamoto. Change their hearts. They need to remember who they belong to._

He grits his teeth. No, he can’t run. Even if it means seeing _him_ again, even if it leads to him dying while surrounded by nothing but the chill of Mementos while his dad laughs at his pain, he still has to try. For his mom, for the one person who loves him with all her heart even though he doesn’t deserve it…he’ll do anything.

He steps through the distortion.

\---

_“I know you’re a busy guy. I know you’ve got like six part-time jobs and sixty things to do every day. But after you started turning down every single one of my invitations to hang out, after I started seeing you hangin’ out in Shibuya with Ann or Yusuke or someone else when you’d just told me you were too busy to spend time with me - I got the hint.”_

_“That’s not - “_

_“Guess all that talk of always being by each other’s sides didn’t mean shit.”_

_“N-no! Ryuji, you’ve got it wrong - ”_

_“Do you remember Shinjuku, Akira?”_

\------

Weird.

Ryuji frowns, hefting his pipe. He squints ahead, only to see…nothing. No Shadow waiting for him, no red and black aura…just darkness. 

“Ryuji…”

He jumps, turning to the left, towards the voice, to see - 

“Ma?”

He rushes towards her, not believing his eyes, unable to think straight - what is she doing here?! How did she get down here? Why is she - but Captain Kidd shouts a warning, and he stops, just a few inches away, his hands in the middle of reaching out to her.

That _is_ his mom, a part of his mind argues. Same black hair pulled back into a bun, same thin birdlike frame, same sharp eyebrows and angled nose that he sees whenever he looks in a mirror, same exhaustion written in the creases of her forehead and the upwards tug of her lips. That’s her.

But…there’s something not right with her. Something off. Her complexion is ashy, like there’s a permanent darkness being cast over her face. And her eyes…her eyes are all wrong. Yellow and empty and just _wrong_. 

“You’re…” He swallows. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

Her smile turns doting, and it just looks so strange, clashing against her glowing yellow eyes. “Sweetheart,” she croons, and now that he’s paying attention he can hear the other layer to her voice, something high and alien and metallic. “How are you? I’ve missed you.”

“No.” He takes a step back, shaking his head. Blood roars in his ears. “No, you can’t be - that means - ”

He can’t bring himself to say it. Because if this really is his mom’s - his mom’s _Shadow_ \- then…

He vehemently denies that train of thought, yelling at himself for even _daring_ to think like that. Because - come on, this is his _mom!_ The best woman in the entire damn world. Why would she have a Shadow? How is that possible? How could her heart be distorted? 

“Mom…” He bites his lip. “God, I - ma, you shouldn’t be here.”

Her eyebrows knit together, the exact same way his mom does, and the confusion on her face is so genuine that it feels like a slap in the face. “Sweetheart, what do you mean?” she asks. “I live here. Is it because I’m late? I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you about the extra shift I took today - ”

“You shouldn’t do that.” Suddenly he’s speaking, before his brain can catch up, before he remembers that this isn’t his mom, this is just a Shadow. “You’re gonna wear yourself out if you keep doin’ this. You…you need a break.”

“That doesn’t matter.” She waves him off. “Who cares if I get a little tired? I’d do anything for you, Ryuji, sweetheart.”

He wants to scream. She always does this, always runs herself to the ground, just for his sake, and - 

Oh. 

_Oh_.

She doesn’t seem to notice his realization of the truth of her distorted heart, only pats his arm and smiles. “I just got a call from the school,” she says airily. “They say your grades have been improving. I’m so proud - ”

“Ma, listen to me.” His voice takes on a note of urgency. “You can’t - you can’t keep thinkin’ like this. I - I’m not gonna fight you, so _please_ listen to me, I need to - ”

Thunder booms.

He turns around.

Where there was once nothing, red and black light rises from the ground. The smell of ozone and alcohol wafts forward.

“Oh,” he hears his mother’s Shadow gasp. “He’s home.”

The light clears, revealing a man with salt-and-pepper hair and flushed skin in dark clothes stained with brown and red. He doesn’t look the same as the person Ryuji remembers - his stubble is more grown out, his cheeks are more hollowed out, his hair is longer. But his eyes, although yellow instead of brown…they’re the exact same as Ryuji’s. 

Even though he’s probably around the same height as Ryuji now, he seems to tower over Ryuji. A smirk is slashed across his face, as he spots Ryuji. When he speaks, his voice sounds identical to before, except for the second voice lying underneath it - low, guttural, thunderous.

“There you are, you fucking brat.”

_\---_

_“I told you. I_ told _you about my old man. Didn’t say all the specifics of what he used to do to me, but I knew you knew. And when those two guys dragged me away to do the same thing my dad used to do to me, you just_ watched _.”_

_“I - I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I was so scared. I couldn’t move - ”_

_“Bullshit. You expect me to believe that?”_

\---

The Shadow spits to the side. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, making me run around like that.” He stalks forward a few steps, and Ryuji can feel his legs shaking underneath him, but he refuses to step backwards. “Disrespecting your own father? After all I’ve done for you? I thought I raised you better.”

“Shut up,” Ryuji snaps, hating how he can’t stop his voice from trembling. “I-it’s been ten years. Why’re you still lookin’ for us?”

He takes a swig from the beer bottle in his hand - when did that get there? - before fixing Ryuji with a glare, and suddenly Ryuji’s six years old again, timid and cowering and unable to do anything besides wait for the next shock of pain from his dad’s hands. “You’re mine,” he says simply, as if it’s fact. “Even if years, _decades,_ pass, that won’t change. You’re _mine_. And when you run, it’s my job to find you. That’s what you do for the people you love.”

Ryuji recoils. A white hot cocktail of raw emotion burns in his chest. “Love?! You tried to _kill_ me! Ma ran ‘cause you I literally almost _died_ thanks to you! You never loved us, you - ”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” The Shadow raises the bottle, and Ryuji flinches pathetically. “I _did_ love you, you ungrateful little shit. I loved you and your mother with everything I had! I was the perfect fucking father. I fixed you. I made you perfect. That makes you _mine._ ”

Ryuji remembers. He’d always scream something along those lines. How he loved them. How it was their fault he had to do this to them. How it was their fault for driving him to the point of having to drink because he had to deal with all their shortcomings. How they were never _never_ good enough.

He stalks closer. Ryuji can smell him from here - smell the alcohol and blood and sweat. Ryuji suppresses a gag. “All I wanted was a perfect family,” he hisses, his breath hot and putrid and awful. “When you or that bitch stepped out of line, _I_ was the one who corrected you.”

It was never something Ryuji could predict, either. His dad’s standards were always changing, his definition of perfect always the opposite of whatever Ryuji tried to make of himself. He spent every minute of every hour of his life trying to do what he thought his dad would want - he made friendships, he broke friendships, he studied, he didn’t study and played sports instead - but everything he did was always met with a blow to the face and a reminder that this was Ryuji’s problem. It only got worse when he got older, when he found out how his mom would be punished. When he…when he… 

“You should have behaved. You should have thanked me. Instead, you ran.”

He pauses. His lips stretch into a wide, twisted grin. “But now I’ve found you.” His words are slow, syrupy, drawled in a drunken slur. “I can finish where I left off.”

He lifts the bottle over his head, and Ryuji freezes. All he can focus on is that bottle, glinting from the red and black light. A barrage of images hits him all at once, of that same hand raising something - a shoe, a belt, a knife, anything he’d find within his grasp - overhead.

 _He’s right,_ Ryuji thinks, and even his thoughts have the voice of his six-year-old self. _This is my fault. This -_

Behind him, a hand grabs his elbow, startling him so badly that he looks away from the bottle, only to meet the yellow eyes of his mom’s Shadow. His senses flood back to him, as he takes in her terrified expression. Then he turns back to his dad’s Shadow, and raises his pipe.

It doesn’t matter if she’s just a Shadow. But he’ll be damned if he lets his dad ever lay another finger on her.

He swings, catching the Shadow right in the jaw. The Shadow stumbles backwards with a pained yowl. The bottle falls from his hand and breaks into a million shards. The sight should fill Ryuji with some sort of triumph or sense of victory, but for some damned reason all Ryuji feels is heat and guilt and wrongness and _it’s my fault it’s my fault_ \- 

The Shadow looks up, still clutching at his jaw. His yellow eyes smolder. 

“How _dare_ you treat your father like that.” The temperature plummets. “I’m going to fix you, if it’s the last fucking thing I ever do!”

He erupts into magma and darkness, his face melting into grotesque inky slime, and Ryuji watches in horror as his body gives way to a gargantuan monstrous... _thing._

It’s vaguely humanoid in that it has two arms and two legs, and at least ten feet tall, with slimy lavender scales lined with maroon and indigo instead of skin and jade green orbs instead of eyes. Spikes jut out from its arms and legs and a line going down the center of its head. Its hands and feet are webbed, with wet ivory claws. Sharp pointed teeth, as long as Ryuji’s forearms, protrude from its mouth. 

His mother’s Shadow is at a loss of what to do, completely speechless, her mouth forming soundless whispers as she looks between the monster and Ryuji and back at the monster again. Ryuji manages to move her to the side, out of harm’s way, a mere millisecond before it roars at him, sending a gust of wind that feels like it’s slicing Ryuji in half as it knocks him to the floor. 

Wind. Of _course_ it had to be wind.

“This is your fault!” The undertone of its voice is clearer now, shaping what was once his dad’s voice into something knife-like demonic. “Even after all the love I’ve given you, you still fuck up! I wouldn’t have to do this if you were _better!”_

He groans, using his pipe to force himself back onto his feet, ignoring the complaints from his body. He glares at what had once looked like his dad, at the thing that continues to ruin his life even now, and feels pure adrenaline and hatred run through his veins.

He knows he’s in over his head. He knows there’s no Morgana or Futaba to back him up, no Makoto to strategize…no Akira to lead him. 

But it doesn’t matter. 

He lifts his pipe and charges.

\---

_“I was there when you stood up to Kamoshida when you were a new student with nothin’ to your name. I’ve seen you go head to head with Shadows three times your size without even flinching. I always wished I could be as strong as you.”_

\---

If there’s one thing Ryuji knows he can do, it’s how to pack a punch.

He narrowly dodges the incoming swing from the Shadow as he runs forward. The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of alcohol grows. Maybe that’s what prevents Ryuji from swinging as hard as he normally does, as the fumes almost suffocate him. But he fights through it, leaping up and driving the pipe into the Shadow’s stomach with as much force as he can muster, forcing it to step back.

“Fuck!” The Shadow scowls down at him. It looks annoyed more than anything, as if Ryuji’s attack had felt like nothing more than a bee sting. “You - insolent - little - fucker!” Each word is accentuated with another swipe of its large webbed claws, and it’s all Ryuji can do to duck out of the way.

The last one swings directly downwards, right towards Ryuji’s head. Instinctively, Ryuji raises a hand to his mask, reaching into his mind to where he knows he’ll find Captain Kidd - 

And finds nothing.

Ryuji barely has time to process what just happened before the Shadow’s claws are right over his face. He’s only just able to thrust his hands upwards, pushing against its palm. His muscles burn, as he struggles to hold back the force of all ten feet of the demon. He feels something dripping from its talons, something that smells like cheap soju and seems to burn on his skin. He lets out a pained grunt.

“You always have to be so fucking difficult!” At the last second, Ryuji rolls, and the Shadow’s palm slams on the ground. One of its talons grazes Ryuji’s arm, cutting through the leather of his jacket and right into his flesh. Ryuji’s vision goes white for a terrifying second, and he hisses as he grasps the wound with his free hand. 

“Ryuji!” 

He looks over, seeing his mom’s Shadow peer through the darkness. “No, Ma,” he bites out, unsteadily rising to his feet. His glove is soaked through with blood and the foul-smelling liquid from the talons. “Get back, don’t let him - ”

“Sweetheart, you’re hurt!” Her yellow eyes are as round as dinner plates. “Here, let me help - ”

She reaches for him, and a sparkling ray of white and green light flows from her fingers. Ryuji feels the moment it hits him, but…nothing follows. Not the refreshing coolness of healing magic, or even the brief burst of energy from one of Futaba’s buffs. 

“Oh.” She sounds so heartbroken, so disappointed in herself. “I…I should've known.” 

“What? What do you - agh!” He bats away the Shadow’s incoming attack, ignoring the sting from the cut in his arm. He reaches into his mind again, but Captain Kidd is still refusing to answer. 

What is going on? Panic starts to cloud his thoughts. Where is his Persona? Why isn’t he coming? _Where is he?!_

He doesn’t have time to keep trying so he just rubs his glove, slick with blood, on the front of his jacket and attacks again, and again, and again. But every time he swings, the stench of alcohol stings his eyes, and when he tries to blink it away he sees behind his eyelids images tinted in yellow. Sometimes Ryuji’s six years old, sometimes he’s still himself in his Phantom Thief outfit. In all of them, his dad is the one raising the pipe against him. In all of them, his dad is screaming, spit flying from his mouth, words messily strung together with drunken stitching.

“How dare you raise your hand against me!” he hears in his dad’s voice, even though the Shadow’s mouth isn’t moving. “After everything I’ve done for you! Why can’t you just be a good son?!"

His hand keeps faltering at the last second, and his attack is always a hair away from being hard enough to do any real damage. He keeps trying, he keeps dodging, but without his Person he’s absolutely screwed, and weariness starts to weigh down on him more and more - 

“Stop this! Please!”

His mom’s Shadow runs out from her hiding spot, and Ryuji’s eyes go wide in horror as the Shadow shows no sign of stopping and aims one curled talon at her. He yells, begs, dashes towards her to try to push her out of the way, but she’s too far, and the Shadow’s green eyes glow with malice.

A whirlwind shoots from its talon and completely phases through her, leaving her completely unharmed, smacking Ryuji with full force instead. The air is ripped from his lungs, and Ryuji feels himself get flung backwards. He hears a loud crack when his back hits the ground.

“Ryuji, _no!”_ she shrieks. He hears footsteps, and sees her face swim into view above him through hazy eyes, as she kneels next to him. 

“Get out of the way, Amai.” The volume Shadow’s voice causes the ground and walls to shake. “I’m trying to fix our fuckup of a son.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobs, as more green and white sparks surround them before fizzling out. “I - I want to help you, I’d do anything to protect you, but I - I’m just not strong enough…”

“What?” He props himself up on his elbows. His head pounds, both from having hit the floor and from trying to understand what she’s saying. “That ain’t true, what are you sayin’?”

Her laugh is watery and hollow. “You’re such a sweet boy,” she whispers. “My greatest pride. You deserve so much better than what I can give you. I’m…so sorry.”

Ryuji stares at her. Is that…really what she thinks? _These_ are his mom’s true feelings? 

“ _Amai!”_

Thundering footsteps approach them. He shakes himself out of his stupor. The wind attack had flung him pretty far, and the Shadow is slow, but even then he knows he doesn’t have much time. He can’t let his mom continue to think like this. He needs to get her Shadow out of here.

He hoists himself up to one knee, and clutches her hands. Despite her nature, her hands are warm. “Ma,” he says, his voice gentle and choked up. “How could you say that? ”

He shakes her head when she opens her mouth to speak, squeezing her hands tighter. “No buts,” he says, looking right into the glowing yellow of her eyes. “You know me, ma. You always know when I’m lyin’. So _listen to me_.”

Flashbacks start entering his head again, flashbacks of his dad standing over him, but this time he also sees the moments right after. When his dad leaves to pass out in the bedroom or to buy more alcohol. When his mom dries his cheeks while doing nothing to stop the tears streaming from her own eyes, and bandages his wounds with hands so gentle it’s like she’s scared he’ll break like glass under her touch, and kisses his forehead while whispering sweet nothings and promises laced with desperation.

He remembers the first time he ever heard her scream, not when his dad slammed her into walls or knocked her to the floor, but when he’d broken a full bottle of soju on Ryuji’s skull. As the ceiling had faded from his vision, and as he’d weakly lifted a hand to touch his forehead only for it to come away dripping with his own blood, he’d heard a high-pitched wail pierce the air. His last moments of consciousness had been full of nothing but confusion, because he _never_ heard her sound like that before, she was always so calm and subdued, keeping herself put together even when she was cracking at the seams. 

And he remembers waking up again, in a room he didn’t recognize at all, and his mom combing a hand through his hair, swearing up and down that they’d never have to worry about him again.

 _Boom_.

The footsteps draw closer.

“Everything you do is for me.” Tears burn from behind his eyes. “You risked everything for me back then, and you even left your job and your friends and everyone and moved all the way to Tokyo just to keep me safe. And even though I effed up with my grades and with…Kamoshida…you were always there for me. I…I know there’s not much that’s good about me, but all the parts of who I am that I _can_ be proud of are because of you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes. He feels her squeeze his hands back. “I - I appreciate all this, but - ”

“So _please._ ” He cuts her off, because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to say everything he needs to say before he starts to cry. “Stop thinkin’ so lowly of yourself. You’re the strongest woman I know. You’re the reason I’m still here today. I love you so much, and no matter what happens I’d still consider myself the luckiest effin’ guy in the world because I have you as my mom - ”

“Ryuji - ”

_Boom._

“But you gotta stop this. You…you can’t keep puttin’ me before yourself, not when it’s runnin’ you to the ground. You’ve already helped me, in so many more ways than you can imagine. You’re worth _so_ much more than you think. And if you end up hurtin’ yourself because of me, I’d never forgive you _or_ myself.”

He pulls her into a tight hug, trying to convey all his love into this one gesture, all his love that he harbored for her for all sixteen years of his life. He hears her muffled gasp.

“You don’t have to think like this anymore,” he whispers. “You’ve already done more than enough. You can rest now. I’ll love you no matter what.”

She breaks at that. Her tears soak into his jacket. Ryuji hears years of exhaustion and pain and heartbreak in her cries, years of trying to be strong enough for him when she’s been dying inside. 

“Okay,” she hiccups, her voice still muffled and hushed and wavering. “Okay. I…I believe you.”

 _Boom_.

“Good.” He lets go of her, wiping her tears away with his clean glove, something he’s never been able to do until now. “I love you, ma.”

She smiles, and cups his face in her hands. “I love you, too.”

She closes her eyes, and her body shimmers and dissolves in a shower of light, encasing Ryuji in warmth and care and the smell of roses. He breathes it in, then lets it all go in a sigh of relief.

She’s okay. She’s okay. 

Then something slams into his back and he goes sprawling face-first on the floor.

Dizzily, he scrambles to his feet, grabbing his pipe off the floor, turning to face his dad’s Shadow. Its breath is right in his face, and he coughs. When did it get so close?

“You weren’t supposed to grow up like this.” It’s furious now. Its attacks are growing more and more vicious. “Your hair, your clothes, God, what the fuck do you think you are? A delinquent?” 

Ryuji raises his pipe with both hands to block the next blow, but the Shadow yanks it out of his grip and closes a fist around it, crushing it until it’s nothing more than a useless piece of metal. 

“Pathetic,” it leers. Ryuji’s too slow to dodge the next hit, and something sharp digs into his side, and he staggers with a cry. “I think it’s time you realized.”

Wind sweeps him off the floor so that he’s hovering right in front of the Shadow’s face. Fumes of poison and death smother him. Ryuji struggles for air. 

“The only way I can fix you,” it hisses, as a forked tongue slips through its many pointed teeth, and as its green orbs briefly change into his dad’s real eyes. “Is by killing you.”

And suddenly Ryuji’s flying, flying, until he hits a wall and crumples to the floor beneath him.

\---

_“It doesn’t matter now, does it? Doesn’t matter what you do, or how many times you apologize. I told Haru before. I’ll never be able to not forgive you.”_

_He can almost see Akira frowning, puzzling over his words, as if he were standing right in front of him. “Huh?”_

_“Maybe you did freeze up. Maybe somethin’ else happened. I…I know you’ve got your own reasons and your own shit to deal with that you don’t always tell me about. I know you’re not a bad guy, Akira. I know that better than anyone.”_

_“I won’t let it happen again.” Why does Akira’s voice sound like it’s shaking? “I can change, Ryuji, I’ll be a better friend. I…I_ swear. _”_

_“Maybe…maybe we shouldn’t be friends.”_

_“Wh…what?”_

_“I can’t keep doin’ this to myself. I can’t keep lettin’ my feelings get in the way and keep forgivin’ you when - when I know it might happen all over again. And those reasons you don’t tell me about…it’s probably ‘cause you don’t think I’ll get it. And you’re…probably right. You were always on a different level than me. I should’ve known from the start…we were never made for each other.”_

_“No.” It’s definitely his imagination, but Akira sounds…scared. “No, that’s not true!”_

_“Besides…you don’t need me. It was always the other way around.”_

\---

Every breath hurts as it rattles in his chest and against his ribs that he thinks are at least cracked if not broken. Black spots dance in his vision. Something wet drips from his side as well as down his neck. Ryuji looks, one last time, into his mind, and once again finds nothing but silence.

He’s going to die here.

He rolls onto his back, the movement so strenuous it causes his mind to give out for a moment. The ceiling is so high up here that he can’t even see it. All he sees is the red and black of Mementos, blurring together into a smear of color.

He’s going to die here. 

\---

_“I know she doesn’t need it, but look out for Haru for me, yeah? She’ll be a better Phantom Thief than I ever was.”_

_“Don’t say that - ”_

_“And for what it’s worth…maybe you knew already. Maybe I was too obvious. Maybe that’s why you felt the need to lie. But you didn't have to. I…I love you.”_

_A hitched breath, but nothing else._

_“...Goodbye, Akira.”_

_Click._

\---

“You’re holding back.”

Distantly, from far above him, he hears a voice. It’s strange, in that it’s both familiar and unfamiliar. He squints, and for a second, before his eyes slide closed again, he thinks he sees a shadowy figure perched somewhere above him.

“Who…” he croaks.

“Get him out of your head.” The voice continues, avoiding his question. “You owe him nothing. The only person at fault for the pain you’ve gone through is _him_.”

He frowns at that. “But…”

“Are you really going to let him get away with that?”

The voice blazes through the darkness, quiet and whisper-like yet alight with a barely-concealed fire.

“After all he’s done…don’t you want a chance to fight for what you’ve lost? To fight for yourself?”

Something snaps in him. A chain, tightly wrapped his heart, giving way to something icy and dark and sharp. 

“Don’t you want a chance…to prove everyone wrong?”

Ryuji’s eyes fly open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting! I'm so sorry this took so long. This chapter was originally going to be longer, too, but then a month passed and I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. 
> 
> I'm not really proud of this chapter? I've never written combat scenes before, so I don't know how well this turned out. And writing for Ryuji's dad was...interesting. I'm so unsure about his character depiction, since the game gives next to nothing to go on, but I really don't know. And I decided to play around with format for this one, too. If it's too weird or confusing, feel free to let me know!
> 
> Thank you for all your comments, too! I'll try to get back to as many as I can! 
> 
> I hope you're all doing okay. I'll try to get another update out this week, but I apologize in advance if I don't. Love you all!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Another update! (A bit short, though, probably my shortest chapter yet? Sorry about that!)
> 
> Thank you thank you THANK YOU for all your lovely comments!!! And I'm glad most of you don't seem to think the fight scene was that atrocious! You're all so sweet!
> 
> The amount of comments this fic has been getting is truly overwhelming and I'm running out of ways to say "thank you for reading I love you sm" (a weird problem, but a good one, I guess!) I'll still try to respond to comments when I can (starting tomorrow morning, it is midnight rn where I live and I am TIRED), but in case I don't please know that your comment still means so much to me! Thank you!!! 
> 
> Special shout outs to sensira, NightFlowerLuv, and sckrim for figuring out my little mystery at the end of Chapter 5 to at least some extent! The rest of you will see what I mean very soon ;)

He’s not sure why he decided to help him.

He almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he’d spotted the boy with the skull mask - the one he always hears the rest of them call “Skull,” although he’d be stupid to not recognize his true identity - wandering around Mementos  _ alone _ . 

No, not wandering. Skull had looked far too determined, his steps far too certain, to be wandering or lost or anything of that sort. His eyes were fearful behind his mask, but he looked like a man on a mission. So even though he had business of his own, he felt himself grow more and more curious. 

Maybe it was the way he saw himself in the way Skull trembled in front of what was obviously his father’s Shadow. Maybe it was how Skull managed to protect his mother in a way he himself had never been able to do. Maybe it was when he looked at the Shadow and was unable to see anything except his own father standing there, unable to feel anything except pure bitterness and hatred.

He shouldn’t have felt that way. He shouldn’t empathize with anyone, much less one of  _ them _ . But…he saw far more of himself in Skull than he ever could have anticipated. 

And maybe…if it came to it, if pushed, if everything in his heart was completely unchained, completely freed, darkness and all…maybe Skull will become  _ exactly _ like him. Maybe Skull will understand. 

So as Skull lays there, his powers gone, his eyes unnaturally blank, about to die from his father’s hand…

He snaps his fingers. He calls to his mind. Loki answers with glee. 

\---

Ryuji’s not sure what’s happening.

Ryuji knows that he’d been lying on the ground mere seconds ago as his life bled out of him. He knows his self-proclaimed mission was doomed to fail from the start. He knows no one would be coming for him anytime soon.

Yet despite all that…

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The Shadow, who had been approaching him with heavy footsteps and a satisfied smirk, suddenly stops in its tracks. It watches, bewilderment clear in its eyes, as Ryuji stirs, shoving himself to his knees.

That same strange, dark, alien energy continues to flow from his heart as he feels more chains snap against his heart. It courses through his veins, leaving his body freezing yet on fire. He feels like a marionette, as it strings him upwards, pulling him up onto his feet.

“How - ” Yellow smoke blows from its nostrils, as it fumes at him. “You fucking - what the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing?!”

Ryuji feels oddly disconnected to his body, to what’s happening to him. He doesn’t feel any pain as he breathes harshly and heavily, doesn’t feel pain from his existing wounds, doesn’t feel any dizziness. 

He lifts his head, looking at the Shadow right in its sickly green eyes, and sees his dad looking back at him.

“ _ Answer _ me when I’m talking to you!” it bellows, stomping closer. “Making me go through all this fucking trouble, when this is all  _ your _ fucking fault - ”

“Shut up.”

A growl erupts from deep within its chest. “Watch your fucking tone - ”

“Shut  _ up! _ ” he yells. He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, as it almost seems to echo around them. A part of him - the part that still feels guilt for not being a perfect son and fear over his dad - tries to silence him, to shut him up, but for the first time today, he ignores it. The strange new energy in him leaves him thrumming with all the emotions he’s been too scared to let himself feel fully. And as he looks at this Shadow, he feels nothing but a cruel, unyielding rage.

“It was never my fault.” His skin is heating up. He feels unhinged, almost, as more and more words pile forth. “You’re the one who ruined my damn life! Not me! Every single effin’ thing you ever did to me - it was  _ never _ my fault!  _ You’re _ the one who did all that to me!”

Biting gusts of wind whip around him. Ryuji winces, but that same darkness surges within him, and he stays on his feet. He’s not going to fall. He’s  _ not _ .

“So what?” it screams, as spit and droplets of alcohol fly. “If you were a good son - ”

“It was never about that, was it?” he accuses. “You always wanted perfection, but nothing I did - nothing Ma did - was ever enough! We never needed to be  _ fixed _ ! A ‘perfect family?’” He scoffs. “Eff that! You don’t deserve one! You don’t deserve  _ us! _ ”

“Wrong, wrong,  _ wrong _ !” It’s growing more and more agitated. The wind strengthens. “I own you -  _ both  _ of you. Ever since you decided to step in for your mother when you saw me touching her - ” Its eyes glitter now, with a lust Ryuji remembers much too clearly from his childhood, from Shinjuku - “You’re  _ mine _ .”

“I ain’t yours.” Through the pounding in his ears and his heart, he hears something that sounds like thunder. The overwhelming stench of alcohol mixes with ozone and the smell of rain. The very reminder of what his dad used to do to him, how he used to touch him, makes him feel sick, but the feeling doesn’t register in his mind. “I never was.”

“You are.” Its teeth gleam, as its mouth curls into a sneer. “And you’ll never be anything more. A fucker like you isn’t worth  _ shit _ . And don’t you forget it.”

He sees those same memories from before flash in front of his eyes. But this time, he also sees more recent memories - he sees the track team shove him as they eye his broken leg with distaste and venom, sees his teachers roll his eyes at him with distaste clearly written across their faces, sees himself fight tooth and nail for his former team only for them to laugh at him as they turn their backs.

He sees every single person who has ever looked down on him, every single person who has refused to believe in him. He sees them call him stupid, useless, an idiot, a waste of space, a poor excuse of a Phantom Thief.

_ Don’t you want a chance to prove everyone wrong? _

The last chain snaps.

“I know what I am.” 

His voice resonates now, above the blood in his ears as it roars to a crescendo. 

And as he looks up at the Shadow, up at his dad’s cognitive form, he’s brought back to another moment in the past, where he’s glaring not at a lavender amphibious sea demon, but at a coward dressed in a king’s clothing.

“And I’m  _ done _ lettin’ you get away with ruining my life!”

He stomps his foot, and the entire world shakes.

Dust crumbles from above, as cracks and fault lines open on the stony black floor. The scent of ozone grows more and more pungent. Blazes of dark light that smell like rain and copper appear in great blinding flashes. The Shadow screeches as it is completely knocked off its own feet.

Yet even though he’s never felt this strong, never felt this  _ sure _ of his own strength, in his life, his head still feels weird. Like it’s not quite attached to the rest of his body. He feels crazed. He feels like he’s gone insane.

_ “It’s good to have you back _ .”

Something - something  _ familiar _ \- throbs at the base of his skull. Something that burns.

“Agh - !”

Ryuji clutches at his head, at his hair, not even feeling the blood that still soaks his glove.

“What the - ” Another wave of pain racks his brain, and his knees almost give way. He remembers this. He knows this has happened before. So why is it happening again? And - God - why does it feel  _ worse _ ?

_ “You had me worried there. For a moment, I thought you were going to go back on your contract.” _

The pain feels like thousands of white-hot daggers digging into every inch of his body. He staggers backwards, hitting the wall behind him. He frowns at the voice, trying to place it - “C-Captain Kidd - ?” 

But then, why does he sound…different? 

_ “Hmph. I thought you’d lost your spark of rebellion for good.” _

“No,” he manages to get out through clenched teeth. “N-never. I - ” He grabs at his chest, clenching the fabric of his jacket in his fist as his heartbeat speeds up to an agonizing pace. Sweat rolls down from his forehead and drips off his chin.

“I ain’t scared anymore,” he gasps out. “I - ain’t gonna stop fighting -  _ ever _ . Th-this time - ” His head throbs again, but this time he speaks through it. “I’m fighting for  _ me _ .”

Through all the chaos, he thinks he hears what sounds like a hum. 

_ “As it should be.”  _ He almost sounds pleased.  _ “Now…I think another look at our contract is in order.” _

The light surrounding him starts developing a tinge of blue.

_ “I am thou. Thou art I.” _

Everything around him - the sound of the Shadow’s enraged howls, the booming of its attempts to stand - fades, until all he hears is the voice in his head and a loud ringing noise.

_ “The rest of the world has forsaken you. May they pay dearly for their mistake. Let my new form raise your flag of rebellion to even greater heights!” _

Ryuji tears off his mask with a yell. 

Raw power explodes from him in the form of blue fire. The sky rains down in the form of lightning and meteors, and pure electricity crackles in the air. From somewhere, he hears laughter - low and chilling and free. 

Something flaring with bright blue light, so bright that he can’t even look at it directly - it looks kind of like Captain Kidd, but just not quite the same - dives right at the Shadow. There’s another boom of thunder as the two collide, and the world goes up in sparks and smoke and swirling alien blackness.

It takes him a few minutes to realize that the laughter is coming from him.

“Stop! Please!”

Ryuji can’t even see a hint of lavender anymore behind all the blue and smoke and dust. The dark energy in his veins pushes more rage to the forefront of his mind, adds more fuel to the black flames, urges him to embrace this new unhinged feeling. He feels it cross over his face in the form of a smile that pulls at his cheeks in a way he’s not used to. A smile more twisted, more sinister than he’s ever had a reason to use. 

As the Shadow finally drops to its knees, covered in scorch marks and bruises and black blood that pours in rivers from its wounds, Ryuji spots his chance. He runs forward, leaping up and grabbing - well, he’s not sure what -  _ something _ from the air, that glows a brilliant white and burns through his gloves. 

For a brief moment, as he raises the bolt of pure lightning above his head, with his dad kneeling below him instead of standing above him for the first time in his life…he feels like he’s flying. 

With a final battle cry, one packed with all the resentment and anger towards his dad that he’s let fester within him for sixteen years, Ryuji flings the bolt down. 

The Shadow’s screams travel for miles. It burns and melts and dissolves into sticky bubbling tar that reeks of despair and soju.

Then silence.

_ I did it. _

He lands on the ground, his hands smoking, as the black fire continues to surround him.

_ I _ _ …holy shit, did I really...? _

“Please! Don’t - I - you can’t - !”

Ryuji turns around. His dad’s Shadow lies in front of him, weak and bleeding and scared. Ryuji meets his glowing yellow eyes without a hint of fear.

“Feel that?” Ryuji says quietly. He stalks closer, feeling a sick enjoyment wash over him as he watches the Shadow tremble. “That’s what you did to me. What you did to your wife. That’s how you made us feel every single damn second of our lives. All for your bullshit idea of ‘perfection.’”

The Shadow whimpers. “Please,” he begs -  _ begs _ \- as his pupils shrink into pinpricks. “Please. I’m sorry. I - I’m  _ sorry _ \- ”

He cuts himself off with a strangled gasp, when he spots the ball of electricity forming in Ryuji’s left hand, buzzing loudly. He tries to shy away, but Ryuji puts his foot right on top of his chest, pinning him in place.

“I could kill you,” Ryuji growls, with words that for some reason feel foreign, like they’re not entirely his own. “Ma would finally be safe. You’d finally be gone from our lives. Why shouldn’t I kill you? You deserve to rot in hell.”

“Please,” the Shadow repeats, over and over again, seized with terror. “Please, no…”

_ Do it _ . The dark energy clouds his vision, tints it dark red, pours into the lightning Ryuji holds.  _ Do it _ .

Ryuji’s hand shakes. He could kill him. If he dies here, his dad dies in the real world. He knows that. There were a lot of things about the cognitive world Ryuji still has difficulty wrapping his head around, but that fact is the one thing Ryuji had understood instantly. 

Those same memories from before cycle through his head, and he feels every single punch and kick and strike as if they’re fresh.

But past that, past the darkness and anger and the energy that still thrums in his veins… 

He blinks. The strange disconnect is muddling his ability to think, but thoughts start to probe at his brain. He looks down at his hand, blazing with lightning. He sees the black flames dancing, and realizes for the first time that they’re surrounding  _ him _ . As if  _ he’s _ the Shadow.

What is he doing?

Ryuji’s hands clench into fists. Everything inside him feels like it’s screaming. Nothing’s making sense. He still feels unhinged, crazed, ready to burst from standing still for so long.

Yet below all that, his heart sings to him. It gets nearly drowned out by the pure chaos still in his blood. But he listens. 

He sees his mom. He sees her Shadow, feels her crying into his chest, hears the open and honest emotion in her sobs that her real life counterpart would never let Ryuji hear. He sees the rooftop garden. He sees Haru’s coffee-colored eyes, beautiful and sparkling like sunlight and so, so kind, and hears her giggling as she hands him a trowel. He sees Yusuke, sees truth and sorrow coloring his expression and his voice as he apologizes in a way so genuine, so  _ Yusuke _ , Ryuji had barely managed to stop himself from asking for his help.

He remembers warmth. He remembers love. He remembers that all this darkness, all this foreign energy…it doesn’t define him. It never has.

The electricity fizzles out. The black fires die. The spell is broken. 

Ryuji huffs, turning on his heel, breathing hard. He raises a hand to his face, digging his nails into his forehead. His skin feels like there’s an open flame underneath it. The sharp edges of his mask dig into his palm. His heart feels uncomfortably tight for a moment, like it’s being bound up again. But…after a few beats, it starts to settle.

There’s a flash of blue light. A chuckle sounds from deep in his mind. 

_ “You did well.” _

He looks up.

A figure, clothed in royal blue clothes underneath regal blood red robes lined in dusty gold that ripple and flow majestically behind him like Captain Kidd’s red flags used to, hovers in front of him. Instead of Captain Kidd’s grinning black ship, he rides on storm clouds that crackle and rumble threateningly. His right hand holds a long spiked staff that still gleams from residual blue light. Instead of a left hand, he has a golden cannon, still smoking from battle. 

Power radiates from him, so strong and potent Ryuji can feel his hairs standing on end even from where he’s standing. It’s a different kind of power from Captain Kidd’s. A different aura. Not pirate-like and scheming and ruthless, but…almost mythical, chaotic in a way that is unlimited by mortality. 

Yet despite the fact that everything about his body indicates him to be a human, his face is that of a monkey’s, with sharp teeth and tufts of white hair as his eyebrows and mustache. At certain moments, when the lightning from the clouds illuminate him just right, his face looks skeletal, and his left eye flashes.

Ryuji doesn’t have to ask for his name. Just like before, with Captain Kidd, he already knows what it is.

_ “I wasn’t expecting to be here so soon,”  _ Seiten Taisei muses, twirling his staff.  _ “You surprised me. I like that _ . _ ” _

“You’re my new Persona,” Ryuji says, a little awe-struck. “But, what about…”

_ “Captain Kidd?” _ He grins, clearly amused. _ “It’s simple, really. Your heart evolved. So he evolved, too. That’s why I’m here.” _

“I…see. I guess.” 

_ “You’ve chosen a difficult path.” _ He rests his staff on his shoulder.  _ “Who knows, you might even find a friend in someone you least expect on this path. But.” _

He leans down at this, his expression turning solemn. 

_ “Remember to listen to yourself, just like you did before." _ The light in his left eye is almost blinding. _"_ _ Don’t forget who you are.” _

Before Ryuji can even begin to process that, Seiten Taisei shimmers, then vanishes. 

A friend in someone he least expects? What? Why does his own Persona speak in so many riddles? Isn’t his Persona supposed to be his inner self?

Ryuji exhales, long and slow. He looks down at his gloves, stained with blood and riddled with holes and burn marks. He shoves his hands into his pockets. God, he’s tired. Why is he so tired?

He can’t leave, though. Not yet. There’s still something he has to do.

The Shadow has calmed down significantly, although he still cowers away from Ryuji as he walks towards him. He looks pitiable. Laughable.

“Up,” Ryuji says, hoisting the Shadow to his feet, grunting as the action causes his injuries to sting. Ryuji realizes with a start that the Shadow, even at his full height, is the same height as him. “You’ve still got a job to do, yeah? You gotta go back, and - ”

“I’m sorry, Ryuji.”

Ryuji stops. When has his dad ever called him anything other than an insulting term? When has his dad ever addressed him by his name?

“My own father died when I was still a child.” The Shadow’s voice is subdued, yet its eyes are clear and truthful. “I was forced to watch all my classmates return to warm homes and loving families, while my mother locked herself up to waste away without giving me a second thought. I…I never had a family…I never felt love.”

Ryuji says nothing, merely tilting his head. 

“I was over the moon when I met your mother,” he continues. “She used to work a part-time job at a flower shop. She gifted me with a flower, and ever since, I felt myself falling more in love with her. And I swore to myself…I swore to create what my parents were never able to create for me. I wanted, desperately, to raise a family. One that my classmates would have been envious of. One that exceeded even the loftiest of my ideals.”

“A perfect family.”

“Yes.” His voice lilts upwards just slightly, almost dreamily, although it quickly flattens. “But…I grew obsessed with the notion. So obsessed that I…I forgot everything else. Including my love for her. By the time you were born…I was too far gone.”

Tears leak from his eyes. He sniffs. 

“I pushed unachievable expectations on both of you. I treated you…so terribly. I turned to alcohol, because I knew your mother was always more scared of me when I drank. The…the horrible crimes I committed…none of them were ever your fault. They were mine. And…I’m truly, truly sorry, son.”

He breaks down at that, into a heap of shaking sobs, burying his head in his hands. Ryuji bites the inside of his cheek. 

He’d called him “son.”

“I…” Ryuji shakes his head, even though the Shadow isn’t looking at him. “I’m sorry about what you had to go through. But…that doesn’t justify what you did to us. And it doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you. I don’t think I ever will.”

The Shadow continues to sob. Ryuji sighs. 

“Apologize to my mom,” Ryuji says firmly. “She deserves to hear everything you told me. And if she doesn’t want you in her life anymore, she means it. If you disrespect her in any way, I’ll  _ make _ you regret it. Understand?”

He looks up, meeting Ryuji’s gaze. His shoulders straighten out. He sniffs again, then nods.

“I was stupid,” he mumbles. “You…you’ve become such a good man. I never needed a perfect son. Not when I already had a son like you. I should’ve realized that sooner.”

He smiles, tear-stricken, and disappears in a soft beam of white light.

A shining object remains, above the spot where the Shadow had just been standing, right at Ryuji’s eye-level. It bobs up and down as Ryuji regards it. His dad’s Treasure. Or, rather, the “bud of a Treasure.”

He reaches out, grasping it out of the air. It stops shining in Ryuji’s hand. 

A lavender rose.

He takes one step forward, when suddenly, the world shifts, then tilts rapidly. The final chain locks itself back in place around his heart. The remaining adrenaline in his body leaves all at once, and Ryuji collapses, unable to muster up enough energy to even cry out. 

He tries to move, tries to get back up, but his body is so frustratingly unresponsive. He wonders, for a moment, if this time he really _is_ going to die here. The thought should terrify him. But all he can think about, for some reason, is the garden of budding flowers on the school rooftop. 

He fades into unconsciousness, with the rose still in his hand, moments before a silhouette, a shadowy figure, walks to his side.

\---

Above them, in the real world, night turns into day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things/clarifications!
> 
> \- For Akechi's powers in this fic, I will be using this explanation/definition: https://p5spoilersblog.tumblr.com/post/160739427635/image-credit-hello-naughty-children-i-am-going-to
> 
> \- This may be an unpopular opinion, but tbh I didn't like Seiten Taisei's design that much in the game? So in this fic I instead imagined him to kind of look more like how he looked in P4G (image here: https://www.ign.com/wikis/shin-megami-tensei-persona-4-golden/Seiten_Taisei) with a hint of Captain Kidd (the cannon, the skeletal face) because he's just super cool! We can say he looks different here because the circumstances in which he manifests are different compared to the game, or if you like Seiten Taisei's P5 design feel free to just imagine him as that! Theater of the mind and all that!!
> 
> \- A lavender rose means love at first sight! It also fits because Ryuji's dad's Shadow form is lavender (something that I did not plan, believe it or not!)
> 
> \- The next chapter(s) will shed more light on this chapter, in case you still have any questions (I know this one was kind of a lot, but hopefully it'll make sense by the end!) We'll also get to see more of the rest of the team!
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long! :(( I'm so sorry, I've been caught up with a summer research project. I also just had the HARDEST time trying to write this chapter (someone PLEASE teach me how to write Akechi I truly cannot, he's probably so OOC here I'm so so sorry), and I have no idea if it's coherent at all, but at least it's done??
> 
> To make up for the lateness, this is my longest chapter yet! 12k words! AO3 kinda bugged out when I tried to copy-paste the chapter over, so I hope nothing got too messed up... 
> 
> And thank you for all your lovely comments as always!!! I might not reply to all of them, but I do read them, and I appreciate them all so so much! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

The early morning rays of the sun stream through the windows of Leblanc. Yongen-Jaya is always quiet and peaceful at this time of day, with the small shops lined across its streets only beginning to wake up, the aromas of baked bread and freshly-brewed tea and cigarette smoke rising and intermingling with the sunlight that touches the cobblestones of the streets and the bricks of the buildings. Leblanc is still closed at this hour, but even so, two people are at the bar, speaking in warm and sleepy tones that are only just louder than the clinking of silverware on plates and porcelain cups on wooden counters.

Futaba yawns, lifting her glasses slightly with one hand to rub at her eyes with the other. “It’s so early,” she says through another yawn that she fails to stifle. “People shouldn’t be awake this early. That’s illegal.”

Across from her, Sojiro doesn’t even look up as he fills up one of the coffee machines with more coffee beans. “Come on now,” he chuckles. Futaba loves his voice. It’s like a warm blanket. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not!” She drops her spoon onto the edge of her half-finished plate of curry with a clatter to pull out her phone. _Wednesday, 07:06._ “See!” She brandishes it to Sojiro. “It’s not even twelve yet!”

“You know you’ll have to wake up this early _every_ morning when you start attending school,” Sojiro points out, setting down the bag of coffee beans and brushing his hands on his apron. 

Futaba grumbles around her coffee cup. “Don’t remind me..."

Sojiro only chuckles again before heading to the back where the kitchen is. Futaba watches as he stirs a pot of fresh curry, and wonders if she’d be able to weasel seconds from him. 

Ah, who is she kidding. She grins, as she scoops up more spoonfuls of curry. She knows he’ll say yes.

Once she’s nearly finished with her plate, she hears soft footsteps padding down the stairs. She looks over to the chair next to her just to see Morgana leaping up onto it nimbly. “Morning, Morgana.”

“Hey.” He scowls at her attempts to pet him, swatting her hand away with a paw. “Has Akira said anything to you lately?”

“Uh?” She thinks, as she takes a long sip from her coffee. “About the Palace?” she questions, setting the cup aside. “Or you? Or what?”

“I don’t know.” Morgana glances back at the staircase leading up to the attic, his tail unusually stiff. His voice drops. “He didn’t sleep well last night,” he says, sounding more worried than Futaba’s ever heard him. “And when he woke up, he stared at his phone, which wasn’t even on, for like five minutes straight. I think he was trying not to cry.”

“Huh.” For some reason, she can’t imagine Akira crying. The thought unsettles her. “He _has_ been more down lately,” she says thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand. “Especially since…y’know.”

One of Morgana’s ears twitches in discomfort. Futaba half-expects him to say something insulting - he always jumps at any chance to badmouth the person in question, after all - but instead he just sighs, as something too quick for Futaba to process shadows his face. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Guess so.”

“They totally had the hots for each other.” Futaba hasn’t been on the team long, but even _she_ noticed the way their eyes lingered on each other for just a bit too long, their sneaky touches, how Ryuji’s always able to bring a brightness to Akira while Akira’s presence softens Ryuji’s rougher edges. “I’d ship them.”

Morgana makes a face. “Ship? What do ships have to do with anything?”

Ugh, cats. “Never mind. I hope Akira’s okay, though.”

“Me too.” He hesitates, then, before saying, “Um, Futaba? About what you said in Mementos…I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I...I really am glad you’re on the team with us."

“Aw, Morgana…” She coos, ruffling his head, and giggles as he hisses in protest. “Thanks. But, I don’t think I’m the one you owe an apology to.”

“I know.” He sighs again, with far more emotion she’d ever expect from a cat, and lies down, laying his chin on his paws. This time he doesn’t react at all as Futaba scritches his ears comfortingly. That same emotion flickers on his face again, and this time Futaba catches it. Guilt. “I already promised Akira I would.”

Hm. She supposes that’ll do for now. Until he actually shows up, at least.

Futaba checks her phone again as she continues to pet Morgana. She checks her messages, making sure to send Yusuke a stupid photo like she does every morning - this time it’s of a slice of pizza in a pot of boiling water...don't ask - and only then notices that Ryuji hasn’t been online in the past twelve hours. Which, for someone who’s never offline for more than a few hours at a time, is definitely strange.

She wonders where he is.

\---

Ryuji’s consciousness returns in short dreamlike episodes at a time. 

The first time he wakes, it’s to leaden limbs and a pounding head. Pain seeps into his bones, so severe and deep he forgets what normal feels like, forgets how it feels to breathe without his chest lighting on fire. Every inch of him screams in agony. Even opening his eyes in the slightest is a monumental effort. A grunt escapes him, as what little light did managed to enter his vision burns through his eyes and directly into his brain.

“You’re awake?” Somewhere above him, a voice speaks, muffled to his ears, like he’s talking through layers of cotton. “Are you stupid? What are you doing? You need rest.”

A gloved hand, cool against his flaming skin, pries his jaw open, and he feels something icy and smooth on his tongue. A Bead. 

“I don’t have time to stay here all day.” Even through the haze of discomfort eating away at Ryuji’s nerves, Ryuji can hear the contempt and venom laced in the voice’s tone, like Ryuji’s very existence is a thorn in his side. “I’ve done enough for you already. The Shadows shouldn’t be able to get to you here, so if I come back to find that you’ve undone all my hard work by getting yourself hurt, I’ll kill you myself.”

Ryuji wants to speak. Wants to ask who this person is, why he’s helping him when he seems to hate him so much, where “here” is. But the jumble of his thoughts are lost in the overwhelming pain that crashes into him like a tidal wave. His vision swims, and the world around him is far too blurry for him to be able to make any sense out of it, like someone tried to paint in watercolor but dipped their brush in too much water, so all the colors bleed into each other until the entire canvas is a swirling mess. When he strains to locate the speaker, all he sees is a smudge of black. 

Staying awake is too much for him. So when sleep tugs at him, he gladly allows himself to be swept away. The last thing he registers is the taste of the Bead, metallic and bitter, as it starts to melt in his mouth.

\---

The second time he wakes up is less terrible, thankfully. The white-hot agony from before has faded to a dull ache, and the world looks more like an underdeveloped photo than an abstract painting when he opens his eyes. He’s regained more of his senses, enough to feel the cold ground underneath him and the bandages wrapped tightly around his arm and torso. The last of the Bead dissipates just as he wakes, causing Ryuji’s mouth to feel oddly numb. 

He shoves himself upwards into a sitting position using his elbows, blinking away the rush of dizziness from the sudden movement. Rubbing the back of his head, he takes in the sight of plastic orange chairs and high glass walls boxing him in, as dull artificial light shines down from above. He recognizes this place. It’s one of the waiting rooms scattered around Mementos, on the platforms they’d always designate as rest areas because of the safety they provide from Shadows.

But that doesn’t make sense. He frowns. Wasn’t he…fighting a Shadow? The memories return slowly, gradually, in bits and fragments and throbs originating from the base of his skull. Yeah, he’d been fighting his _dad’s_ Shadow, no less. Something he absolutely doesn’t want to ever live through again. But that aside…how did he get _here_?

“So it takes fifteen hours for a Bead and cheap convenience store first aid to revive someone from the brink of death. Good to know.”

If Ryuji had been standing, he would’ve jumped a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He does still startle violently, as a figure steps into the room. A figure dressed in silver and navy blue diagonal stripes, with the fabric of his clothes going black and jagged at the hems of his sleeves and from his knees downward on his pants. Everything about him screams _danger,_ from the way his dark gloves sharpen into claws at the fingertips, to the pistol tucked into the black studded belt around his right bicep, to the long serrated sword in his left hand that still drips with something thick and tar-like. The aura he radiates is so cold and dark and sinister that it sends goosebumps crawling up and down his arms.

It isn’t until Ryuji takes in what he wears on his head that he understands his body’s immediate instinct to run away. What looks like a knight helmet almost, as black as obsidian. His eyes glint dangerously behind the eyeholes, which are covered by some kind of blood red glass. The front of it - the visor? - is oddly curved, like talons, and taper into something that almost resembles a beak. Ryuji’s never really seen a helmet visor like that. It almost looks like a mask.

Then it hits him.

_A black mask._

“Shit!” Ryuji scrambles backwards, until his back hits the wall, his chest heaving. “You’re - ”

“Yes, yes, save it.” His voice - definitely the same voice from before - is as sharp and biting as the serrated sword he wields. Every word he says is packed with pure hatred, so potent that every sentence that comes out of his mouth sounds like a thinly veiled personal insult of the highest offense, no matter its actual meaning. “The one with the black mask, the murderer, whatever you and your so-called ‘friends’ like to call me.”

“Wh - you know - ?”

The Black Mask scoffs. “I know all about you Phantom Thieves.” He spits out the last two words like poison. “Including you. Ryuji Sakamoto.”

Horror grips Ryuji by the throat, steals the oxygen right out of his lungs, screams so loud that his ears start to ring. He should be more alarmed. Everything the man has said so far - confirming his identity as the one in the black mask who's been running around between Palaces, revealing that he’s been listening in on them enough to know how they refer to him, calling Ryuji by his real full name - is more than sufficient reasoning to feel very very afraid for his own safety. He knows he should do _something_ \- to run away, or try to cover up for them, or fight him even, as bad of an idea as that is. But for some reason, the first thing that comes to mind, that he chokes out through the horror, is, “I’m not a Phantom Thief.”

Behind the red glass, Ryuji sees one of his eyebrows arch upwards. Judging from everything Ryuji’s seen from him so far, Ryuji expects him to laugh, or insult him, or both. But instead, the Black Mask just tilts his head.

“No,” he says. “I suppose you’re not.”

God, what the hell is Ryuji supposed to interpret from _that_?

“Regardless.” His chin juts upwards. “You’re still in no condition to be straining yourself this much. Sleep.”

Several things occur to him at once. The shadowy figure he’d seen following him around earlier, the voice that urged him to fight back when his dad’s Shadow had nearly killed him, the man standing in front of him - they’re all the same person. The reason he’s still alive…is all because of someone who’s probably (read: definitely) a psychopath. 

“Why’re you helpin’ me?” Ryuji stammers. His head is spinning, and he’s still shaking from exertion after backing up so quickly, having spent a lot of energy he didn’t have. But he ignores the flaring up of his injuries and the greyness lurking in the corners of his mind that threatens to spread. There’s no way he’s letting himself fall asleep in front of _him_ . Not without answers. “I mean - you’re an effin’ _murderer_ , for cryin’ out loud! Shouldn’t you have killed me by now?”

Probably not the smartest thing to say in front of a serial killer, in retrospect. 

But the Black Mask doesn’t have much of a reaction. He stays silent for a long while, his eyes locked on Ryuji’s with an emotion Ryuji can’t understand, not with the mask covering basically his entire face. Through red glass, an entire storm thunders and howls in his eyes, and strangely enough, Ryuji finds himself…transfixed. Maybe it’s the pain making him delirious, but…he wonders if there’s more to the Black Mask than just villainy. He wonders what lies in the center of that storm.

“That Shadow was your father’s,” is what he finally says. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

Ryuji blinks, thrown off by the sudden question. It’s a loaded question, for sure, a difficult one that’s nothing like those multiple choice questions from his exams, and he knows he can’t get away with BSing this question the way he does on tests. 

The answer that comes to mind first isn’t one he’s fully satisfied with. But he voices it anyway.

“I didn’t want him to die,” he says. “I wanted him to change.”

There’s a beat of silence, before the Black Mask snorts. “You’re so foolishly optimistic,” he sneers, but there’s a waver to his voice that wasn’t there before. 

Ryuji just shrugs, too tired to do much else, as his body relaxes against the wall behind him. “Worked, though, didn’t it?”

He doesn’t get to hear the other’s response. His eyes slip shut right after.

\---

“Okay.” Makoto tucks her pen behind her ear, having just finished laying out their goals for their next Palace trip. Today’s meeting ran a little later than usual - the sky has already darkened outside Akira’s attic window. Haru hopes her father won’t notice. “If all goes to plan, we’ll be able to secure an infiltration route in about a week or two. Does that sound good?”

The rest of the team nods in assent. Haru’s heart thrums in anticipation. Ever since she fully Awakened to her Persona and joined the front lines, her excitement has only continued to increase. Wreaking havoc on Shadows as she pleases, sneaking down hallways, feeling the exhilarating rush of power every time she summons her Persona…it’s still so surreal to her, that she’s really a Phantom Thief. That she’s going to change her father’s heart... 

Still, as she’s spent more and more time working with this team, she can’t help but notice that something about it feels…off. There’s a strange distance that everyone from the team keeps from each other, that makes the team as a whole feel oddly disjointed. They’ve all been kind, and they chat and laugh around each other easily enough, and to anyone else they’d probably pass off as friends. 

But they aren’t united. They all follow Akira’s leadership, but other than that, when Haru sees them work together, she doesn’t see one unit, but rather six individuals, each with their own fears and distrusts and, above all, uncertainties. She remembers what she said before to Akira and Makoto, about how the Phantom Thieves don’t know what they want to do, and wonders, if it weren’t for the threat of Haru’s upcoming marriage, whether or not they would’ve been able to come to a decision about what to do regarding her father.

“If no one has any objections, I’d like to talk about one last thing before the meeting is dismissed.” Makoto looks right at Akira, then. “Are we planning on having Ryuji join us for this Palace?”

They all go silent.

“It would certainly be nice to have him on the team once more,” Yusuke says, drumming his elegant fingers on the table. “His skills and friendship are of immense value. But, would he want to?”

“We haven’t even been able to talk to him,” Ann sighs, looking a bit downcast. “I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen him these past two days, and we go to the same school!”

“He didn’t answer my calls today,” Haru says. “They all went straight to voicemail.” The paranoid part of her can’t help but worry, because he’s usually very good at answering calls, and even when he misses them, he sends a message later as soon as he’s able to. But this time, even though hours have passed since her last call, she hasn’t received a single notification from him. She does have a tendency to over-worry, though, so it’s probably best not to spread unnecessary anxiety. “I assume he’s been busy?”

Makoto nods. “We can try to arrange a time to meet with him, then. I can speak to his teacher - ”

“You don’t have to do that.”

They all turn to Akira.

“I think…” His mouth flattens. “I think we should leave him alone.”

Haru’s eyebrows raise at this. She didn’t expect him to say that.

“A-are you sure?” Ann’s uncertainty reflects that of the rest of them. “I thought…”

“He said he didn’t want to be on the team anymore. We should respect that.” He speaks firmly, but there’s a fragility there as well, in his voice and shoulders and posture. “If he wants space…the least we could do is give that to him.” 

“Akira…”

“We can end the meeting now.” He doesn’t quite look any of them in the eye. “Goodnight, everyone.”

Haru looks at Akira, and sees a figure of glass holding the weight of the sky on his shoulders. She can’t imagine the stress he must be under right now, considering how busy he always seems to be, not to mention everything regarding the Palace. And she doesn’t miss the way he’s always glancing to the empty spot next to him, like he expects to see someone there, like there’s nothing more he wants in the world than to see that person there. He’s good at disguising himself, has the same mastery of switching between multiple demeanors and masks like her father, but every time he glances, just before he’s able to recover his appearance, Haru sees the way he seems to die a little inside every time, the way cracks begin to spread across glass, jagged and web-like and ugly.

Haru looks at Akira, and sees someone about to break. 

\---

“I don’t understand you,” is what the Black Mask says as soon as Ryuji stirs. 

“What?” Ryuji rolls his shoulders back experimentally, hearing multiple cracks as his bones resettle into place. He checks his bandages, too, which look like they’ve been changed recently. “What do you mean?”

The Black Mask growls. He stops in the middle of pacing in the space between the two rows of orange chairs in the waiting room, the light above flickering ominously. He looks agitated, but Ryuji gets the feeling that’s how he usually looks.

He turns his glare on Ryuji, and thunder booms in his storm-filled eyes. “It shouldn’t have been possible for you to fight off my power. How did you do that?”

“Your power?” Ryuji suddenly remembers that strange surge of power from before, the darkness and chaos that burst from his heart and coursed through his veins, the way his strength no longer really felt like his own. 

He rolls his eyes, explaining impatiently, “Those psychotic breakdowns on the news? They could only be caused by one with the ability to break the chains around one’s heart, as it were. Without that restraint, people rampage, go berserk, run wild.” His eyes narrow. “But _you_ …you fought it off. Even in the face of the one who hurt you the most. You regained control. That’s not possible.”

“I…” 

“What’s more, my ability…it somehow triggered another Persona to Awaken from you.” He’s holding his pistol this time, instead of his sword, which is strapped to the belt around his waist. He spins the pistol in his fingers. It glints scarlet in the light. “What turned others psychotic instead granted you with greater power.” He sneers. Ryuji gets the feeling he does that a lot. “Is this supposed to be some kind of ‘pure of heart’ bullshit?”

“Hell if I know, dude.” Ryuji almost laughs at the concept of him being pure of heart. “Doubt that’s the reason, though. The idea of my heart bein’ ‘too good to be corrupted’ is a load of crap.”

“Good to know we agree on something.”

“I really don’t know what to tell you.” Ryuji sighs. “It just happened. How should I know more about your power than you?” A thought crosses his mind, and he jokes, “Maybe if you do it again, I’ll Awaken to a third Persona.”

This pulls a short bark of laughter out of the other. Ryuji jumps. Until now, he didn’t think a guy like the Black Mask even possessed a sense of humor, much less the ability to laugh. The sound is so foreign and stiff, like it’s never gotten the chance to stretch its wings out in the open, but there’s an odd lightness to it that mellows out the usual harshness in his demeanor.

The Black Mask seems just as surprised as Ryuji, like he can’t believe what just occurred, like the mere concept of laughter is baffling to him. Then he frowns, and the moment’s over. “You really are an idiot.”

\---

On Thursday evening, someone knocks on the door to the Sakamoto household. A petite woman with dark hair pulled back in a bun and a kind yet exhausted face answers the door, only to gasp at the sight of the man standing there, with a bouquet of lavender roses in his hands and apologetic tears in his eyes.

Later on, the same man turns himself in to the police, and a case gets closed. One regarding a drunkard in Shinjuku. Apparently, he’s no longer “searching” for anything. Besides repentance.

\---

A sudden tightening around Ryuji’s arm jerks him out of his slumber, and he hisses in pain.

“Looks like it’s healing decently enough.” The Black Mask sounds completely unapologetic, cold even, as he continues rebandaging Ryuji’s arm. “Your side, too. I can’t really say the same about your ribs or head, though. Open up.”

He drops another Bead into Ryuji’s mouth with much more force than necessary, before pushing himself to his feet, like he’s hurrying to put distance back between them again. 

Ryuji prods at the new bandages around his wound, which still throbs in protest, then bites down on the Bead and swallows it so he can say, “You’re kinda shit at this, y’know that?”

“Watch it,” he says scathingly. “I could’ve killed you whenever I wanted. I still could. But instead I’m here, playing nurse for an ex-Phantom Thief.” His mouth curls in disgust. “At least you were bright enough to bring your own medical supplies. I wasn’t going to waste any of mine on you.”

“Why help me at all?” Ryuji asks. The Black Mask seems to be in more of a foul mood than usual, which is saying something. And after being stuck in here for who knows how long, he can’t help the fact that the foul mood is starting to spread to him, too. “Hell, if you’re so tired of me, do you want me to just leave?”

“Ha. Good luck with that. You can barely stay conscious long enough to answer one of my questions.” He glances down at his wrist - his watch? - then back up. “It’s taken almost forty-eight hours for you to regain enough strength to stay awake this long. Your condition is bad enough as it is, and returning to the real world would only slow the healing process.” At Ryuji’s apparent confusion, he says, exasperated, “Healing is faster in the Metaverse due to cognition. Since most people are impatient and like to rush recovery processes. Do the Phantom Thieves really not know this?”

Is that really true? It sounds fishy, but…he’s been on the track team. He’s seen people with that kind of mindset far too many times. “Doesn’t feel like I’m recovering that fast, though.”

“You Awakened to a Persona right after almost dying. What do you expect?”

Ryuji groans. “So, what, I just have to stay here? For who knows how long?”

“Oh, trust me, I’m as thrilled as you are,” he drawls sarcastically. “I have far more important targets to be pursuing right now, yet here I am, stuck with an imbecile.”

Ryuji scowls. Asshole. He’s still terrified of him, but a good amount of that terror has turned into irritation, at just how arrogant this guy seems to be. _So annoying._ “It ain’t like I asked for your help!” he retorts. “And, ‘targets’? You just confirmed you’re the culprit by tellin’ me that, genius!”

“You already _knew_ it was me,” the Black Mask replies flippantly. “Besides. It’s not like you know my name. Or my face. So good luck with trying to report me in the real world. Because I can promise you now.” His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. “You’re _not_ going to be able to stop me.”

Ryuji feels like tearing his hair out. Tension crackles between the two of them, heated and angry, and Ryuji wants nothing more than to fight him, rationality be damned. “Why’re you doin’ this?” His voice rises, more out of frustration than anything. “You have the same power as the Phantom Thieves, but instead of tryin’ to accomplish somethin’ good, you use it to _murder!”_

The storm explodes in bursts of murderous lightning. “You think I give a shit about those stupid ideals of ‘justice’?” he spits derisively. “You stupid Phantom Thieves, and your so-called ‘teamwork’ and ‘bonds.’ Keep that shit to yourself!” He shakes his head. “And to think, I thought you were like me. That you’d _understand._ ”

“Understand what?” Ryuji can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You?”

“Never mind!” He looks like he’s seconds away from drawing his sword, and really, Ryuji shouldn’t be pissing off unhinged killers, especially when he’s still half-dead, but he meets the Black Mask’s glare head on. “It was foolish of me, to expect anything from the likes of a mindless brute like you. You’re really just like the rest of them. Just another - ”

The Black Mask keeps going, more fired up than Ryuji has ever seen him, but Ryuji’s attention is caught by a flicker of movement from outside of the glass walls, and all his irritation leaves him in one go, replaced by pure adrenaline. 

He thinks - he _hopes_ \- he just imagined it, that it’s nothing and he’s just being paranoid. But the flicker appears again, along with the sound of rattling chains. This time, right behind the Black Mask, who’s completely unaware, as he continues to rant. In the dim light, he sees crystals of ice glint sharply.

And he doesn’t even have to think twice about what to do next.

“Get back!” Ryuji leaps to his feet and pushes the other behind him, barely managing to raise his arm in time to block the shards of ice from his chest. The shards dig into his forearm, so cold that they burn. Ryuji winces, but does his best to ignore the feeling as he rips off his mask. Seiten Taisei emerges in a flash of blue fire and dives at the Shadow, so quickly that the movement forms a lightning bolt that slices through the air. Seiten Taisei’s staff strikes the Shadow dead-on, and the collision sends it flying backwards. 

“Fuck!” The Black Mask blinks out of his shock remarkably quickly, and dashes out of the waiting room while reaching for his own mask. Ryuji follows, to see what must be his Persona - a terrifying horned demon criss-crossed with black and white stripes, with long black braids that end in flames - already attacking with a monstrous fiery red sword that’s probably longer than Ryuji is tall. 

And the Shadow he’s attacking…Ryuji inhales sharply at the sight. 

A towering monstrous figure, clothed in bloodstained black robes and swathed in chains, with a long-barreled revolver in each hand. Its face is covered, except for one gleaming white eye. It rears its head back, and an inhuman screech pierces Ryuji’s eardrums.

“What the hell?!” Ryuji stares in shock. “Is that - ”

“The Reaper!” He narrowly dodges a revolver shot, hissing a long stream of expletives. “Looks like it started feeling brave since you’ve stayed here for so long!” Then, at the Reaper, “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up to a safe room, you piece of shit!”

The Reaper chooses to respond to that with another gunshot.

“Why the hell are you fighting it?” They’ve had a few unlucky encounters with the Reaper in the past, but every time, Akira had commanded them to run. None of them had protested. They all sensed the aura of pure death, chilling their skin and filling the air with the stench of rotting flesh, and just _knew,_ within themselves, that any battle they picked with this monster would be a losing one. So to see the Black Mask facing him directly like this? “We gotta _go,_ dude!”

“It’ll just find us again!” The Black Mask shouts back. “Unless we leave the Metaverse! And you can’t exactly run very far, so we don’t really have another choice! _Loki!_ ”

The Black Mask raises a fist, and his Persona - Loki? - rotates his sword, which is _levitating_ now somehow, in a complete circle before slamming the hilt down. Bright violet light blazes at the Black Mask’s feet, then explodes upwards and outwards into a perfect arc, striking the Reaper so forcefully the entire platform rumbles.

Ryuji’s eyes go wide at the raw display of power. For the first time, he’s seeing the Black Mask in combat, with his Persona no less. He’s seeing the full extent of his power, the same power that comes with being a lone assassin of the Metaverse that has struck down so many people and causes the rest to cower in fear. He’s seeing the Black Mask for who he truly is. 

“Are you just going to stand there?” Ryuji snaps out of his petrified state of fear at the sound of his voice. “I expect you to pull your fucking weight here!”

“R-right!” 

Ryuji calls for Seiten Taisei, and a circle of dark energy originating from Ryuji erupts from the floor. Ghastly hands rise up from beneath the ground, tearing and clawing at the Reaper, threatening to knock him down. Ryuji’s a little taken aback - that’s _definitely_ not an attack he remembers Captain Kidd using - but shakes it away. No time for that right now. His attack has bought them a few extra seconds, as the Reaper struggles to throw them off, and they’re going to need every single one.

“Keep its Wind away from me!” he calls out. No matter how much he dislikes the idea, they’re a team now, and he knows from all his years on the track team that this won’t work unless they communicate everything, including their strengths and weaknesses. “And if you need an attack boost, let me know!”

“As long as it doesn’t use Bless attacks I’ll be _fine_ _!”_ The Black Mask glances over at Ryuji again. “Shit. You don’t have a weapon?”

He doesn’t wait for Ryuji to answer. Instead he pulls something out of the holster of his right arm and throws it to Ryuji, who catches it instinctively. His pistol.

The Reaper fires its two revolvers into the air. They’re out of time. 

“He’s attacking! Brace yourself!”

Pure blue energy, so bright it sears into Ryuji’s retinas, forms into a large glowing orb on the ground before them, then explodes with a loud _BOOM_ that cracks the very floor they stand on. Ryuji staggers, as the entire area shakes from the sheer might of the explosion.

God, what kind of attack was that?! He’s never seen that before, not even from one of Akira’s Personas. He does a quick check-up on himself - his injuries have definitely started bleeding again, and his clothes are smoking, but besides that he seems to be fine - then looks over at the Black Mask, who definitely seems worse for wear but is at least still on his feet - before taking stock of everything around him.

There’s a large split that runs through the platform. The spot where the orb had been is now charred and destroyed beyond repair. Next to him, the waiting room is nothing more than a half-melded mess of iron bars and molten glass. Dust rains from the ceiling. 

For some reason, the sight is unusual to him. But before he can put more thought into it, the Reaper is attacking again, and they have no choice but to retaliate.

The Black Mask is ruthless. In the light of the dark fires surrounding him, the Black Mask’s attacks are almost animalistic in ferocity. His offensive style through Loki is sharp and quick and scarily precise despite the chaotic force that’s present in every move, whereas Ryuji’s (well, Seiten Taisei’s, technically), is more blunt and heavy and more akin to the swing of a hammer than the slice of a sword. They complement each other in a very strange yet effective way, equal in aggression and similar in attack yet still so different.

Wave after wave of destruction rocks the platform, but the battle refuses to end. Ryuji’s not sure how many times he’s attacked by now, but his head is starting to spin. The gash in his side burns. Seiten Taisei’s movements are beginning to go a bit sluggish. The Black Mask is faring better than him, but Ryuji knows that against the relentless attacks of the Reaper, who barely looks fazed in the slightest, they won’t last much longer.

He braces himself for one more attack, only to freeze when he sees one particularly large piece of rubble land on the floor in front of him. 

Huh.

He stares at it incredulously for a bit too long, then back around him, breaking out of his combat mindset. The rubble, the wreckage around him…why does he find this all so strange? 

Then it hits him. This is Mementos. Palaces are a different story, but their battles in Mementos have never caused any damage to their surroundings, not even their most violent ones. This is the world of the Shadows, of course it would make sense that the environment is built to withstand the chaos that comes with their existence, which would include that of any battles. But this place…this place is a rest area. Shadows aren’t supposed to be here, so it makes sense that this platform isn’t designed for combat. Which is why it’s far more fragile to the consequences of their current battle. 

Ryuji looks back at the piece of rubble in front of him, then up at the ceiling. Cracks spread across it like a spider web. 

“Sakamoto!” The Black Mask sounds a bit winded, and is leaning more on one leg, but has lost none of his initial ferocity, even after fighting for who knows how long. Above him, Loki slashes at the Reaper with his sword. “Talk to me!”

“I have an idea!” Ryuji responds, still looking at the ceiling. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it!”

He follows Ryuji’s line of sight, and catches on almost immediately. Then, against Ryuji’s expectations, he laughs. That same short startled bark of laughter like before. 

“If the ceiling crushes us instead, I’m killing you first.” His stormy eyes are alight with glee. “Offense up! Then wait for my signal!” 

The Reaper attacks again, this time with sharp gusts of wind that only serve to further destabilize the area. The Black Mask warns him milliseconds in advance, and Ryuji’s able to dodge the worst of it surprisingly well. He’s never been the most agile guy in the world, but Seiten Taisei seems to have a knack for keeping out of the way of wind damage somehow. He senses each attack before it occurs, from the way the hairs rise on the back of his neck, like some kind of sixth sense. 

Once the last gust dies, Ryuji reaches for his mask again. Seiten Teisei slams his staff on the thunder clouds he rides on, and jets of red-orange light shoot up around both Ryuji and the Black Mask, accompanied by the sensation of raw strength rising through him from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. Seiten Taisei and Loki wear identical bloodthirsty grins, as their movements go more pointed.

“Aim at the spot right above its head!” The Black Mask bats away a Curse attack without breaking a sweat. “Ready? _Now!”_

At the exact same time, Loki’s sword and Seiten Taisei’s staff strike the part of the ceiling that’s weakest. The ceiling begins to crumble. The Reaper seems oblivious, keeping its focus on Ryuji and the Black Mask. The Reaper is many things, but apparently intelligent isn’t exactly one of them.

The Reaper moves to lunge, but Ryuji tightens a fist, and crimson lightning blasts him so powerfully that it goes as stiff as cardboard, buzzing from static electricity. 

Since when were his Electric attacks powerful enough to shock Shadows? Ryuji looks in awe at his Persona. How can Seiten Taisei’s power exceed Captain Kidd’s by this much? And why is the lightning _red?_

Seiten Taisei and Loki strike one last time, and finally, the ceiling gives way. 

The Reaper is forced to stand, powerless, as cement and stone and gigantic chunks of rubble crush him all at once. Through the gaps, Ryuji shoots at it thrice, while Loki sends another arc of violet crashing down on it, and with one last demonic howl, what’s left of the Reaper dissolves into ash under a mountain of wreckage.

“Hell yeah!” Ryuji shouts, adrenaline and excitement igniting every single one of his nerve endings. “I can’t believe that actually worked!”

Unfortunately for them, it worked a little _too_ well. The ceiling continues to fall, as the platform shakes so hard from all the destruction it’s sustained that it threatens to split in half at any given moment.

The Black Mask swears, and suddenly he’s right next to Ryuji, grasping him by the wrist and tugging both of them forward into a dash. “Come on!” He yanks Ryuji out of the way of a falling piece of ceiling that definitely would have smashed Ryuji into a pulp had he not done so. “Down the stairwell!”

Thankfully, they manage to escape the disintegrating area in one piece. The Black Mask doesn’t stop pulling at him, though, his grip tight and hot around his wrist, the clawed tips of his gloves threatening to break through skin. Not until they reach the next stairwell, which leads to a second rest area. It’s only then that the Black Mask releases him, and the two collapse onto the platform, side by side.

It’s over.

For several minutes, neither of them say a single word, still gasping for air, as the last of the rush of battle gives way to exhaustion. Ryuji doesn’t think he remembers how it feels to breathe without his ribs smarting in protest. Yellow spots dance in his eyes. It probably wasn’t the best idea to try to fight the most powerful Shadow of Mementos without being fully healed. He’s nowhere near as bad as he was after his last fight, though - if anything, it’s a miracle the two of them were able to escape as unscathed as they are. 

As he continues staring upwards, his skin prickles, as the weight of the Black Mask’s gaze settles on him. “You saved me.”

Ryuji’s so out of it that his brain doesn’t even register the question for a good minute, until he recalls the moment he’d taken the Reaper’s Ice attack for him. “Yeah, well.” He laughs breathily. “Couldn’t exactly let you get hurt.”

“Why?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Ryuji says. “I’m not an asshole.”

The Black Mask is quiet. Then, softer than Ryuji’s ever heard him, he mutters, “I don’t understand…no one…no one’s ever…” 

Ryuji remembers their argument before, which now feels like so long ago, even though it was probably only twenty minutes ago at most, remembers him speaking bitterly of the concept of teamwork. And he knows, he _knows_ he shouldn’t be feeling any sympathy for someone like the freaking _Black Mask_ of all people. But, after everything that’s just happened…well. He’d had to place all his trust in the Black Mask as his impromptu teammate, and Akira used to joke that the only reason new members trusted them so quickly was because they’d always fight a battle with them right after Awakening, and that combat was the best form of team bonding, but…hell, Ryuji always thought he was kidding.

“What do you have against teamwork and friends anyway?” Ryuji asks.

He hears a huff of air. “I’m no idiot. I’d rather be caught dead than put my trust in others. I’ve never needed ‘friends.’”

Ryuji sighs. “I guess I get that.” 

“Do you?” the Black Mask asks dubiously. “Really?”

“Trustin’ other people is scary. It’s even worse when you think someone’s your friend, and you put everything you have into that friendship, to the point that you’d die for them, even…only to realize that they’d leave you without a second thought.” 

He closes his eyes, and faces flash behind his eyelids, the faces of the other Phantom Thieves, one by one. 

“To realize you see them as your everything, but they see you as trash under their foot. They’ll never care for you the way you care for them. And sometimes…sometimes I wonder if it was worth tryin’ to be their friends in the first place. If it would’ve hurt less. If…if it was worth it.” 

The Black Mask goes silent, for so long that Ryuji’s breathing is able to settle into a pace that’s somewhat normal. There’s something new in the air between them. Not fear, or anger, or the tension from their argument from before. But…something more delicate. Open. Fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. Maybe it’s because they just faced a life-or-death situation together, forced to place their trust in each other to survive, and had ended up emerging victorious. Maybe that’s why Ryuji’s saying all this, why he’s baring his soul, or maybe it’s because his brain is nowhere near functional enough to maintain what little filter Ryuji has. 

The Black Mask says, quietly, “You’re talking about the Phantom Thieves. Is that why you came down here alone?”

“That obvious, huh?” Ryuji opens his eyes. “It just…it effin’ sucks, y’know? I’m not sayin’ all friendships are bad, though,” he adds quickly, this time thinking of Mishima, Haru, Yusuke… “Just…you were hurt, too, right? So it makes sense why you don’t wanna trust other people, and I’m sayin’ I get it. But even if it is scary…when you meet the right person, someone who understands you and makes you feel good, it’s okay to wanna go for it. To give it a try.”

“The right person…”

“Sorry.” Ryuji chuckles a little. “I usually ain’t one to talk about deep shit like this. It’s just me bein’ dumb.”

“You still believe it’s okay to ‘give it a try’?” There’s a hint of incredulity in his tone now, but he also just sounds so, _so_ confused. “After they hurt you? You would still risk it again for the sake of some new friendship if the opportunity arose?”

Ryuji’s brow furrows. “I…” He thinks for a bit, before just letting out a sigh of frustration. “I think I’m the one who effed up that time. I put their happiness over mine. Thought the needs of the group were more important than just me feelin’ upset and bein’ too sensitive. Thought them treatin’ me as the butt of every joke was okay because they were my ‘friends.’ It’s why I said that I’d be fightin’ for me this time. I guess…I guess it’s a balance. And I know I’m not gonna eff that up next time. So yeah. If I meet the right person? Someone who _gets_ it? I’d risk it again.”

The Black Mask sinks into deep thought at that. Ryuji cannot for the life of him get a read on him. He confirmed himself that he’s the culprit of the mental shutdowns, but he chose to save Ryuji and bring him back to health. He seems to hate Ryuji, but he was the one who gave Ryuji the strength to continue to fight. He opposes anything other than solitude, but the two of them made an undeniably good team together. 

And for some reason, something about him…Ryuji’s not sure why, but something about him is…familiar. 

They continue to lie there, in a long moment of them just drinking in the silence, this momentary peace that he knows Mementos will never give them again. 

“My father ruined my life.”

Surprised, Ryuji looks over, as pure hate boils over within the storm of his eyes. But his voice is still quiet. 

“I was an illegitimate child,” he says. “He abandoned my mother and I, and she let grief consume her until it killed her. No one ever gave a damn about me. I’ve wanted all my life to take him down, but I could do nothing.” He laughs, harsh and broken. “How could I? In a world controlled by adults, how can I hope to accomplish anything without bending to their wills?”

Ryuji feels a pang in his chest, unrelated to his injured ribs. His words…they sound so similar to everything the Phantom Thieves had suffered through. 

“I didn’t know the power to change hearts even existed,” the Black Mask admits with a rueful smile. “Had I known, things probably would have been different. Maybe I wouldn’t be stuck in a situation like this, on this dark one-way road I’ve been forced upon, that I can no longer escape after everything that I’ve done, only continue spiraling downwards.”

His voice brims with pain, spills over like tears. 

“You…” Ryuji swallows. “Do you regret it? The breakdowns, the deaths…”

“Even if I did…I have an employer, I suppose you could say.” There’s a dark humor to his tone when he says that, like he’s making a twisted inside joke. “I offered him my ability to incite psychotic breakdowns, but he…he forced me to take it one step further. I’ve been trapped in his deal for years. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

For the first time, Ryuji realizes that the person next to him…he’s not some despicable malicious villain. He’s just someone else who’s been caught in the clutches of another horrible adult. This so-called employer. Ryuji doubts the Black Mask will tell him anything about the employer, even if he asks, but he can’t help but wonder…

“It’s all because of my father,” the Black Mask spits. “Because of him, I’ll never be more than an unwanted child, no matter what I do or what mask I wear. I want nothing more than to tear him limb from limb. And when I saw you against your father’s Shadow, and heard all the ways he… _abused_ you…I…I suppose I saw myself. I saw you standing up against your father in a way I would never be able to, and…I wanted nothing more than to see you win. To see you burn him to the ground. To…understand. Me.”

Empathy surges in Ryuji. Involuntarily, his hand reaches out, until he makes contact with the Black Mask’s, and covers it with his own. The Black Mask goes completely tense, and almost jerks his hand away. Ryuji’s heart pounds, second-guessing himself, bracing himself for the Black Mask to lash out, but…that doesn’t happen.

“Were you pissed?” Ryuji asks. “‘Bout me not killing him?”

“I was,” he says. “But I was also…envious. I wished I could be like you. To still be able to see good, even after everything…”

“It’s not too late, y’know?” Ryuji says. “To change. I know you’ve done a lot of shit that can’t be forgiven, but…that doesn’t mean it’s too late for you. To break off the road you think you’re stuck on. You…you’re more than just a criminal. You’re not unworthy of love. I promise, it’s not too late.”

A quiet snort. “Right. Maybe.”

“And hey.” Ryuji shoots a grin at him. “If you ever find your dad’s Shadow somewhere in the Metaverse, hit me up. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

The Black Mask arches an eyebrow. Some of his usual condescension re-enters his tone, and he says, without much heat, “You think I’d need _your_ help?”

“Even if you didn’t, I still owe you, don’t I? ‘Sides, we’ve gotta stick together.” His grin widens. “The shitty dads club."

The Black Mask laughs, this time a little lighter than his typical curt bark, but still just as startled, like he’s still not used to finding humor in things. As the two make eye contact, a ray of sunlight breaking through the Black Mask’s stormy eyes, Ryuji feels something tug at him. Sees the way the Black Mask has reached out, and opened up, even just by a little, as he looks at Ryuji with astonishment and confusion and hope and even a grudging respect. Remembers Seiten Taisei from right after Awakening, saying, _“You might even find a friend in someone you least expect on this path.”_ And feels, in his own heart, a desire to know more.

“The shitty dads club,” the Black Mask repeats, his hand warm underneath Ryuji’s. “You’re the absolute worst.”

\---

The final bell rings, and the entire class seems to exhale a collective sigh of relief. Their teacher calls out reminders of their homework, which largely go unheard, drowned out by the sound of papers shuffling and students bursting out of the classroom. So, just another typical Friday, really.

Ann shoves the last of her notebooks into her bag. It’s not like she takes many notes anyway, but really, can anyone blame her? Especially when their teacher drones on like _that?_ Ugh.

“I still don’t get how you like this class, Akira,” she says without looking at him, too busy getting all her stuff in order. “If I had to listen for one more minute about the ‘glory of feudal Japan,’ I would’ve died.”

While gathering her pens and transferring them to her pencil case, she notes that the majority of the class has now vacated the room, including the teacher. Which, again, isn’t surprising. She packs up the last of her belongings and zips up her bag with a flourish, and only then realizes that Akira hasn’t responded. Not even with a hum or a mild chuckle. Which _is_ surprising.

She turns around. “Akira?”

He startles, his eyes going wide behind his round spectacles. For a second, with how his shoulders are hunched over as he seems to be trying to curl in on himself, and how his hair is more disheveled than usual - which Ann didn’t think was possible - and the way his skin is almost sunken, like he’s nothing more than a shell…it’s like she’s seeing someone entirely different. The textbook image of utter defeat.

Then he straightens up, and all of that falls away, so quickly it makes what she’d just seen feel like a mere trick of the light, or something. “Sorry.” He blinks. “What did you say?”

“Nothing important…”

Ann squints. _Was_ that just a trick of the light? No, it couldn’t have been. Some of what she saw still lingers, in the exhaustion that lines his face and the tension that wires his brow taut. “Are you okay?” she asks. “I was gonna ask about having a team meet up today, but…you look like you could use a break.”

“Huh? No, don’t worry.” He tries for a smile, but it doesn’t look quite right, like a mask that’s slightly crooked. “I’m fine.”

As if she’s going to believe that. She leans forward, her lips pulling downwards into a frown. Briefly, she glances around them, making sure no one’s in earshot, before asking lowly, “It’s about Ryuji, isn’t it?”

His face gives away nothing, but his grip on the pen in his hand goes tight, and Ann knows she’s right on the money. Of course it’s about Ryuji. The two of them went from best friends to people who don’t even talk to each other anymore. She can’t imagine how she’d feel if that were to happen to her and Shiho. 

“We’ll talk to him,” she says with as much reassurance as she can muster. “I…” Her mind brings up flashes of her conversation with Makoto three days prior. “I definitely owe him an apology. But you don’t have to worry, okay? We’ll apologize, talk things out…it’ll be okay.” She smiles brightly, in an attempt to get him to cheer up. “In fact, I’ll go find him right now!”

“Find who?”

Both of them turn to the door, to see Makoto entering, clutching a clipboard in one hand, the other tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. 

“Oh, hi Makoto!” Ann greets. “We were talking about Ryuji. Did you see him on your way here?”

She grimaces. “Actually, that’s what I came here to talk to you about.”

“Huh?” 

Ann glances at Akira, who seems just as confused as her. What is she talking about? And…why does she look so worried?

“I went to speak with his homeroom teacher at lunch today,” Makoto begins. “To tell him to send Ryuji to the student council room after class ends, so we could speak. But…” She closes her eyes. “Apparently, he’s been absent for the past four days, including today.”

“What?” Ann puzzles over this, tapping a finger on her lip. “I thought he was just really good at avoiding us. I mean, he cuts class from time to time, but he’s not the type to ditch entire days of school…”

“No,” Makoto agrees. “And according to his teachers, he’s been doing better in his studies recently, so I don’t understand why he’d suddenly backtrack like this. Maybe something happened…”

“I-I’m sure he’s fine!” Ann says quickly. She knows how prone Makoto is to overthinking and worrying herself over even the smallest of issues, so it’s best to stop her train of thought before it gets carried away. “Why don’t we call him? I don’t know if he’ll answer me, though…maybe Haru-senpai should try? Or Akira?”

Akira, who’s been silent for this entire conversation, suddenly shakes his head vigorously. “U-uh, no, I…I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He clears his throat. “I think you should try, Ann.” 

Ann concedes, pulling out her phone, but not without saying, “Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t pick up…”

She taps his contact, only for the call to go…straight to voicemail?

“Huh.” She hangs up, then calls again, but the same thing happens. Weird. “Maybe his phone’s dead?”

“Kurusu-kun?”

This time it’s Mishima who enters, his voice timid and almost nervous. He looks surprised to see Ann and Makoto there as well. “Oh, Takamaki-san, Nijima-senpai.” He bows slightly, as polite as always, and Ann shoots him a smile. After all they’ve been through together under Kamoshida’s tyranny, she’s developed a soft spot for him. “I, um…am I interrupting something?”

“Actually…” Now that Ann thinks about it, Mishima and Ryuji are pretty good friends right? Maybe Mishima might know something? “Do you know where Ryuji is?”

“Sakamoto-kun?” At this, Mishima looks even more nervous. Not just typical Mishima levels of nervousness, but…something more. “He, um…he didn’t tell you?”

He directs this question at Akira, who frowns. “Tell me what?”

Mishima doesn’t answer right away, shuffling his feet and wringing his hands while continuing to send nervous glances toward Ann and Makoto. “Do, uh, do they know about…” His voice drops to a whisper. “You know, you and Sakamoto-kun being…”

“Phantom Thieves?” Mishima looks taken aback at how casually Akira says it, and if the situation were any different Ann would laugh. If only Mishima knew the whole truth. “Yes, they’re trustworthy. What is it?”

Some of Mishima’s nervousness seems to settle, only to be replaced seconds later by worry. “Okay, so…actually, the reason I came to find you was to follow up on a request from the website that I told him about. He said he’d tell you about it, but…well, the request looks like it’s been completed, but I didn’t get any follow-up from you like I normally do. So I thought I’d come ask - ”

“Hold on.” Akira looks over at Ann and Makoto, and Ann can tell the three of them are all sharing the same questions and bewilderment. A Mementos request? They haven’t gone to Mementos in days. “What request?” he demands, with a sharpness bordering on frantic. “And why did you tell him first instead of me?”

Mishima sucks in air through his teeth. “So he really didn’t tell you…”

“What’s going on?” Makoto whispers to Ann, quiet enough so that Mishima doesn’t overhear. “Is this about a Mementos request?”

“I - I guess so?” Her uncertainty turns her statement into more of a question. 

“Then, you don’t think…” Realization strikes Makoto, crossing over her face like a ray of light. “What if he went into Mementos on his own?”

The temperature in the room plummets faster than Ann’s heart.

“Mishima.” Akira’s voice is quiet. He stands, and his glasses flash in the fluorescent lighting of the classroom. “What happened?”

\---

_“Amai and Ryuji Sakamoto. Change their hearts. They need to remember who they belong to._ ” 

_Ryuji is deathly silent. Even after Mishima lowers his phone, his eyes seem transfixed on the spot where his phone screen once was._

_“I’m really sorry, Sakamoto-kun…” Mishima’s thumb rubs the surface of his phone case as he continues to look at his friend worriedly. Ryuji still doesn’t look up. “I…I usually go directly to Kurusu-kun when it comes to Phantom Aficionado requests, since I know he’s the one who handles everything, but for this one…I thought I should show it to you first.”_

_Ryuji is still, as if trapped in the center of a whirlwind of emotion. Of confusion, fury, horror, disgust, helplessness, fear, pain. He says nothing, but he’s always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and Mishima’s learned from all his time as a wallflower how to notice, how to observe. He reads the raw emotion written into the tension of Ryuji’s stance and the angles of his face._

_Mishima knows his role is to be nothing more than a supporter from the sidelines. He’s accepted it a long time ago. But, it’s times like these where he just_ wishes _he could be…something more. Be someone who could help._

_“Thanks for tellin’ me first,” Ryuji finally says, as genuine as always, because he’s never learned how to lie, but so unusually quiet, nothing at all like the loudmouth everyone knows him to be. His emotional turmoil lives in his words, in the shakiness of his tone and the unsteadiness of his breathing. “Really.”_

_“Y-you’re welcome.” God, what does he say? “Um, I - I know this must be hard on you, so…if you want, I can tell Kurusu-kun about this for you - ”_

_“No!” Ryuji’s head snaps up. “No, don’t - ”_

_“Sakamoto-kun?”_

_“I - I’ll tell him myself, okay? Just…”_

_The whirlwind dies, melds and becomes one with Ryuji, leaving nothing but a grim determination, as Ryuji grits his teeth and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket._

_“Just gimme some time,” he says. “To handle things myself.”_

_Mishima nods. “Sure, but…are you okay?”_

_“Take a wild effin’ guess,” Ryuji snaps. But almost immediately after, he wilts, his hostility leaving as soon as it had arrived. “Sorry. That was shitty of me. I…”_

_His lips press together, then quirk upwards into a half-smile, which is already a red flag in Mishima’s mind. When Ryuji smiles, he’s almost physically incapable of not smiling a full-on grin that splits his entire face, a grin that’s wide and full and toothy and bright enough to light up entire rooms. It’s like he smiles with his entire being. But this…_

_“Thanks again for talkin’ to me,” Ryuji says, clasping a hand on Mishima’s shoulder. His smile turns sad. “You’re…you’re a real good friend, Mishima.”_

_\---_

It only takes thirty minutes for the rest of the Phantom Thieves to gather with them in the attic of Leblanc, and another five for Makoto to explain the situation, as well as recount Mishima’s story. 

The air is oddly solemn. Normally, even when they discuss Phantom Thief business, there’s always the sound of snack wrappers crinkling and soda fizzing and chips crunching. But today, the table is bare from food and any other distractions, like none of them can really bring themselves to stomach anything. 

When Makoto finishes, for a moment there’s nothing but silence, which is only broken by the sound of Futaba’s keyboard clacking as she hunches over her laptop. Silence, as they just breathe, trying to process what they’ve just heard.

It’s Morgana who breaks the silence first, surprisingly enough, from his spot on top of their table. Ever since he’s rejoined the team, he’s remained completely silent about Ryuji. The fact that he hasn’t cracked a single joke or jab or insult this entire meeting shows that he really is taking this seriously. 

“So…” His left ear flicks. “He’s really been gone? For four days?”

“We might just be making a big deal out of nothing,” Ann says. “I mean, sure, he hasn’t shown up to school, but, you might be jumping to conclusions a little too quickly, Makoto. He might just be at home.”

“We can check, no?” Yusuke says. “Perhaps we could speak with his mother?”

Ann’s eyes light up. “Oh, good idea! Should we go visit his house?” She pauses, drawing back slightly, causing the couch cushions to shift underneath her and, consequently, Makoto, since the two are sitting next to each other. “Or is that too invasive?”

“I have his home phone number.” Akira utters his first words of the entire meeting, while still not raising his head from looking down at the table, still so subdued and wrought with an emotion Makoto doesn’t know how to interpret. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, and his thumb taps the screen a few times. “I just shared it with you.”

“I got it,” Ann says, now on her phone as well. “Just give me a sec…”

“Put it on speakerphone,” Makoto says. “Everyone else, stay quiet.”

Ann lifts the speaker near her mouth, her index finger tapping against the edge of her phone as they wait. The call rings four times…five times…then clicks.

 _“Hello?”_ a kind voice greets, one Makoto can really only describe as motherly.

“Hi, Ms. Sakamoto!” Ann says, keeping her voice cheery. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Ann Takamaki? Ryuji’s friend?”

_“Oh, hello, Ann! I haven’t seen you in so long! To what do I owe the pleasure?”_

“Sorry to bother you.” Ann leans forward, so that she’s resting the elbow of the arm holding up her phone on her knee. “But I was wondering if I could talk to Ryuji? We have a…project…we need to work on, and I’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering his phone.”

A “project”? Makoto suppresses a snort. Well. At least Ann’s acting isn’t _too_ bad? Judging from Yusuke’s judging stare, he seems to think otherwise, though…she's not sure why.

A beat passes, one that stretches a little too long, before his mom speaks again.

_“He’s not answering you, either?”_

Silence.

They all exchange glances with each other. Makoto can feel her pulse begin to accelerate. Is she overreacting? What did Ryuji’s mom mean by that? Or…has Makoto’s panicked guess been right from the beginning?

“Ms. Sakamoto?” Ann questions. “What do you mean? Is he not home?”

Another beat. 

_“He hasn’t been home in days,”_ she whispers, her voice cracking at the end of her sentence. _“I - at first I assumed he was just sleeping over at Akira’s, but when he didn’t answer my calls…I knew something was wrong. He always answers me when I call, always. I’ve even called the police, but they haven’t found anything.”_

The other end dissolves into barely concealed sobs. For some reason, Makoto finds herself thinking of Sae. Of the fact that since their mother died when they were young, she’s been the closest thing to a mother that Makoto has ever had. An ugly part of her is envious of Ryuji, of how despite everything, he has such a wonderful parental figure to rely on, something Makoto hasn’t had for a very long time now. Would Sae even care this much if Makoto went missing? Maybe a few years ago, Makoto would have said yes right away. But now, after all these years, after corruption has clutched Sae in its cold dark claws and refused to let go…she’s not so sure. 

It scares her, that she’s no longer certain of whether or not Sae even loves her anymore.

“I…I’m so sorry.” Ann looks to her left at Makoto, then back to the phone. “We’ll find him, okay? I’m sure he’s fine. Please don’t worry.”

 _“Thank you, dear_ _.”_ She sniffs. Then, quieter, _“Oh goodness, is that why he called me that time? I didn’t think…”_

“What? He called you?” Ann’s eyes widen. “What did he say? Any detail would help.” 

They all listen more closely, as Ryuji’s mother collects herself enough to speak. _“It was…Tuesday evening, I think? He called me right after my shift ended. He asked me…he asked if anything weird or suspicious happened to me recently. I said no, and asked why, but he didn’t answer. All he said was…he loves me, and he’s going to fix everything, and to stay safe.”_ A hiccup. _“He kept saying how much he loves me…did he run away? Did something happen to him?”_

“Ms. Sakamoto - ”

 _“Please don’t let anything have happened to my son,”_ she sobs. _“He’s - he’s all I have…”_

Out of the corner of her eye, Makoto notes Futaba’s typing stutter, her eyes going suspiciously wet. Next to her, Yusuke’s eyes have that strange spacey look to them, the one that signifies that he’s lost in thought.

Ann does her best to reassure the woman, even though she herself is beginning to sound a bit choked up. She promises that they’ll find Ryuji as soon as they can, and that they’ll keep her updated as much as possible, before they exchange farewells.

“He _is_ missing,” Ann says as soon as she hangs up. “He’s really been missing for _four days_ …”

“Wait.” Makoto frowns, as she tries to piece together all the information they have so far, only for some of the pieces to not quite fit. “She says he called her on Tuesday…which was the first day in his streak of absences. I’d assumed that the four days of him not going to school were equivalent to the four days he’s been missing, but…”

“I spoke with him on the phone on Tuesday as well,” Haru says. She’s been as prim and proper as always, sitting up perfectly straight on one of Akira’s rickety wooden chairs, her face schooled into something as calm and smooth as a still pond. What gives away her true state of distress is her hands, clasped so tightly around each other that her knuckles are white and bloodless. “During lunchtime. He told me he was busy making up work. He sounded fine, so I didn’t suspect anything was amiss. But he didn’t answer my calls on any of the subsequent days.” She grimaces. “I…I should’ve done something sooner…”

“You couldn’t have known, senpai,” Ann says gently. “Please don’t blame yourself.” 

Morgana tilts his head, as his tail swishes. “So maybe he disappeared physically on Tuesday, then dropped completely off the grid the day after?”

“That’s not possible,” Yusuke says. “I saw him in person on Tuesday.”

Makoto blinks. This is news to them. They’ve all been trying to meet with him, but she’d assumed they’d all been unsuccessful. “You did?”

The artist nods. “At the Shibuya Underground Walkway. He seemed more reserved than usual, but he was amicable enough. I didn’t know that he wasn’t at school.” His eyes drift upwards, as he recalls that memory. “Come to think of it…he did mention something about having to do something on his own. And he was…oddly secretive.”

“Why was he at Shibuya?” Ann wonders aloud. “Did you see where he went before or after you guys talked?”

“It was very crowded that day,” Yusuke says. “So not clearly. But, I believe I saw him coming from the direction of Central Street.”

“Yep yep.” Futaba’s glasses reflect the dim light from her laptop screen. “I’ve just managed to extract his location data from Tuesday from his phone. He went to Taisho, Untouchable, Triple Seven, that bakery at Ginza…he even went to that clinic down the street. Then he went to the train station, and after that...nothing.”

“What?” Akira looks up for the first time, blinking rapidly. “Those are all the places I go to when I’m preparing for a Mementos run.”

Dread settles over Makoto like an iron blanket, as everything suddenly becomes clear. She can’t remember ever hating herself this much for being correct.

“So he spent Tuesday preparing for Mementos,” Makoto says slowly. “Which is why he didn’t come to school. He really _was_ aiming to fulfill the request about his father on his own. And for the next three days…”

One by one, they all realize what she means. 

Ann gasps, stricken. “He’s been in _Mementos?_ Alone? For _three days?!”_

“Is he insane?” Morgana yelps. “Going to Mementos without backup is practically a death sentence!”

“The environment of Mementos is incredibly draining,” Yusuke mutters darkly. “We get exhausted even after a couple of hours of time spent there. To be in a place like that for _days_ …”

“Don’t say that.” The steel grey of Akira’s eyes sharpens into daggers. “He’s not dead. He’s _not_ _.”_

Makoto winces at his tone. “Akira…”

Wood scratches on wood as Akira pushes himself to his feet. “We’re going to find him.” Makoto can see the exact moment Akira starts slipping into his Joker role, but his eyes are oddly out of focus, like he’s trapped in a strange limbo between the two masks and doesn’t remember how to control it. A sense of loss, one Makoto’s never seen on him, brews underneath a thin layer of bravado, as he silently dares anyone to argue with him. “To Mementos. _Now.”_

\--- 

Ryuji wakes up alone.

He sits up, with relative ease, doing a quick once-over of himself, flexes his arm experimentally. He feels pretty good, really. Definitely sore. But for once, his brain doesn’t feel like it’s been clogged with wool. And when he gets to his feet, the world doesn’t threaten to tilt on its axis.

“Ah. You’re up.”

Ryuji turns, to see the Black Mask descending down the stairwell. As he approaches, Ryuji racks his brain trying to figure out why something seems to be missing, before he realizes. His gun.

“Oh, wait.” He pats down his jacket. In one of his inner pockets, he finds the lavender rose from his dad’s Shadow. In the other, he finds the blood red pistol. He takes it and holds it out. “Here. Forgot to give this back.”

The Black Mask crosses his arms. “You’re giving a gun? To a serial killer?”

“It’s not like keepin’ the gun away from you makes you any less dangerous, with a sword like that.” Ryuji rolls his eyes at the Black Mask’s self-satisfied smirk as he takes it, spins it around in his hand a couple times, and holsters it. Show-off.

“Will you be leaving now?” The Black Mask’s eyes flick up and down. “You look alright to me.”

Ryuji nods, bouncing on the heels of his feet nervously. He can’t wait to leave Mementos - _God_ he hates this place - but he feels a bit hesitant to leave, especially after he’d finally begun to understand the other. “I, uh…I never thanked you. For savin’ my life, and everything. So thank you.”

The Black Mask blinks, before shaking his head and clearing his throat. “Hmph. You owe me now, I hope you realize.”

“I know.” He bounces again. There’s a question nagging at him, one he’s not sure if he should ask. But…ah, screw it. “Could I have, like, a way to contact you?”

The Black Mask stares at him like he’s grown two heads. Ryuji cuts him off before he goes into some tirade about how insane Ryuji is. He’s already well aware, thank you very much.

“I know we can’t meet in the real world, since that means revealin’ your identity, I ain’t _that_ dumb,” he says defensively. “But, y’know, how am I supposed to pay you back if I don’t know when you’ll be in Mementos?”

“Ah.” His eyes are still narrowed slightly, but he nods. Then he smirks again. “Well. If you’re in Mementos at the same time I happen to be…I’ll find you.”

“That’s terrifyin’, dude.”

A bark of laughter. “Good. Go on already, then. You’ve been down here for almost four days.”

“What?!” Ryuji pulls out his phone, hands fumbling as he opens the Metanav. “Shit, shit, shit…”

“I hope you can come up with a good excuse.” The Black Mask inclines his head, and Ryuji looks up one last time, at storm-filled eyes hidden behind red glass. “I suppose I should be glad we met. Good luck.” 

With that, he vanishes into the darkness of Mementos.

It’s truly bewildering, to think of how he’s gotten to the point where he shares a level of understanding with _the Black Mask_ of all people. He never would’ve believed it.

Ryuji can’t get over how similar the Black Mask is to the Phantom Thieves. And…he wonders what would’ve happened. If they’d met sooner.

He looks around one last time, before he activates the app, and the world disappears into black and red distortions. 

\---

Before they can even get out the door, Haru’s phone buzzes, causing them all to stop.

She gasps at what pops up on her screen.

_Ryuji: sry abt missing ur calls_

_Ryuji: not dead I promise haha_

_Ryuji: it’s a LONG story_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! A couple notes:
> 
> \- I recently found some VERY good Akechi analyses that I'll be basing my portrayal of Akechi on to the best of my ability! There's this doc that I found from a Youtube comment by Kiki Yushima (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-bYX6N-w9RB4W2rdYlkuq1L6QMmktZLi8CsKgh-ZIiQ/edit) that's super long (97 pages I think?) but is worth reading at least a bit of, and a shorter blog post (https://p5spoilersblog.tumblr.com/post/160061674440/on-goro-akechi-v2-ft-screenshot-evidence-because). I REALLY didn't want to get his character wrong, but he's such a complex character that I think I messed up anyway :( Hope he's not too OOC? Anyway if you're interested feel free to give those posts a read!
> 
> \- I usually don't mention Persona skill names during combat scenes because I feel like it's kinda cheesy? The idea of them calling out their skills reminds me of Pokemon and I want a different vibe from that. It's also super fun to write visual descriptions of skills! Like the purple attack from Black Mask is Laevateinn, the blue explosion from the Reaper is Megidolaon, the circle of hands coming from the ground is Deathbound, etc. 
> 
> \- This is hinted at with the red lightning from Seiten Taisei (not a typical Zio attack!), but Seiten Taisei WILL have some different skills from his in-game version, given the different circumstances of his Awakening. Is this just an excuse for me to invent new Persona moves? Mayhaps ;)
> 
> \- The italicized section with Mishima was a flashback!
> 
> \- I should say, the Black Mask didn't stay in Mementos for four days straight, but he did drop by regularly to keep tabs on Ryuji. (Side note, figuring out the timeline for this chapter was weirdly hard for me? I hope it makes sense.)
> 
> \- Was wondering if I should leave some kind of social media account to be able to better communicate w you guys? Would that be smth people would be interested in? If so, what platform?
> 
> Stay safe everyone, love you!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait :( hard to find time ever since school started again

_ “Ryuji Sakamoto!” _

The rest of the Thieves flinch at Haru’s tone, razor-sharp and angry and dripping with molten fury. Morgana and Makoto, who both happen to be sitting closest to Haru, even shy away a few inches. They’ve all heard her raise her voice before - they’ve been in battle with her, after all - but never like this. 

Truly, though? Haru really can’t bring herself to care. She’d barely even noticed when the Thieves had relocated further from the entrance to one of the booths and taken her with them, too busy dialing his number as quickly as her fingers would allow. Her entire world has tunneled to the audible wince on the other end. A short sound, yet one that unearths a great deal of the identity of the speaker, because a personality as bold and striking as Ryuji’s is impossible to hide even through tone.

He’s alive. He’s there, he’s actually on the phone with her, he’s  _ alive _ . The hand that’s holding her phone to her ear shakes with raw emotion, and she’s half-convinced that she’s one second away from bursting into tears.

“What were you  _ thinking?” _ Her voice has gone shrill. “I couldn’t reach you for three days! Why on  _ Earth _ would you go to Mementos on your own, especially - ”

_ “Wait, what? How did you know I was in Mementos?” _

Haru huffs. “Mishima-kun told us of the request regarding your father. Which you could have told me about! I would’ve helped! You didn’t have to go on your own! You could have  _ died!” _

He sighs, the sound so guilty and tired that Haru's anger drains right away.  _ “I’m sorry, Haru…I just…I didn’t wanna bother you. You’ve already got your dad’s Palace to worry about and everything…” _

“You silly thing.” Haru sniffs, lifting the back of her hand to lightly press against each eye, and feels wetness on her skin. For someone to have so much love and care to give only to be rejected and ridiculed by almost everyone in his life…Haru just doesn’t understand. “You’re never a bother to me. No matter what. If you ever have a problem, I want to hear about it.”

_ “Haru…” _

“Promise me,” she pleads. “Promise you’ll trust me enough to tell me about something like this next time.”

_ “I promise,”  _ he says immediately, which, she’ll admit, does wonders to quell her remaining worries. The fact that he agreed to trust her without an ounce of hesitation…  _ “I’m so sorry, Haru. It’s just, this was…I dunno, it was…” _

He trails off with a frustrated exhale. Even through the phone, Haru can detect the exhausted slur to his words. It’s a wonder he’s even able to be this coherent, considering he’s spent days -  _ days! _ \- in a place Morgana had spoken of with fear buried deep in the depths of his eyes when “training” her. No matter how much she wants to see him, to hear the truth, to ensure this is all real and he’s really here and okay, she also knows better than to try to demand answers from him right now. 

“Don’t worry about trying to explain yourself,” she says. “For now, I just need to know if you’re okay.”

_ “I’m - ” _

“And be honest.”

A short chuckle, much more subdued than normal, but still familiar and tinged with warmth.  _ “Fine, fine. I’m…real effin’ tired. I feel like I haven’t eaten in three days.” _ He pauses.  _ “Which, I guess, is pretty much the truth. But I ain’t injured anymore or anything like that, so don’t worry.” _

Anymore?

“Is he okay?” Futaba leans forward at the sight of Haru’s frown. She, like the rest of the table, hasn’t been able to hear the call, and is apparently done with waiting. “What did he say?”

“Ask him to come here,” Ann says. “We have to talk to him.”

Haru’s frown only deepens. Everyone else seems to be in agreement with Ann, but she’s not too sure. Is that…really a good idea? After everything he’s just gone through, she’s sure the last thing he’d want to do is talk to the very people who have hurt him so severely. 

_ “…Haru?” _ Ryuji sounds more hesitant.  _ “Was that…Ann?” _

Well. She supposed there’s no point in hiding that from him now. 

“I’m with the rest of the Phantom Thieves,” Haru begins, slowly, trying to gauge his reaction. “We were worried, so we held a meeting to try to determine your whereabouts. We were just about to head to Mementos when you texted me.”

_ “…Oh.” _

“Haru.” This time it’s Akira who speaks, the edges of his voice rough with desperation. “Please.”

Truthfully, selfishly, she wants to refuse. She wants to end the call, or even leave the cafe so they can talk in private - anything that doesn’t involve him having to deal with more than he has to. 

But…it’s not her place to decide that for Ryuji. If she doesn’t give him the chance to decide that for himself in the first place…she’d be no better than her own father. 

“Ryuji-kun,” she says into the phone. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, and you may answer this however you wish. But…” She worries her lower lip, hesitating again. “They want to speak with you. Would you mind being put on speakerphone?”

There’s a long moment of silence, and all she can hear from his end is footsteps and what sounds like a lot of people around him. Is he at the train station?

_ “Okay,” _ he says finally. His words are flat, a toneless grey in contrast to the raw emotion that colors Akira’s. Strange. It’s usually the other way around.  _ “Make it quick.” _

With a mental note to apologize to him again later, and a warning glance at everyone else - she’ll end the call at the  _ slightest _ sign of discomfort from him, and they should know - Haru presses the speakerphone button and places her phone on the table. 

“Ryuji?” Makoto says. Haru’s never seen Makoto this uncertain before. She keeps switching from worrying her lower lip with her teeth to clenching and unclenching her fists on the hem of her skirt. Makoto has proven time and time again that she’s a natural leader, but it’s too clear that she feels far out of her depth during situations like this.

_ “Makoto.” _ Haru almost does a double take. Something about his voice, compared to when he was speaking with her, is so different. She can’t quite figure out what.  _ “Need somethin’?” _

Everyone else seems to share the same jolt of surprise, at the unexpected difference in the voice they’ve all grown so accustomed to. Is it just the exhaustion? Or…something else? 

Ann, who picks up on how thrown-off Makoto is, clears her throat. “We just want to check on you.”

“A-and we wanna see you!” Futaba bursts out, almost vibrating with nervous energy. “W-we wanna talk things out, and - and you’re mad, and everyone’s mad, and I - I don’t want - ”

She stutters to a halt, as the overwhelming pressure of confrontation finally catches up to lock down on her being. It’s nowhere near as extreme as her near-breakdown at the entrance of Mementos, but it’s enough for Makoto to snap to her senses, retaking the reins of the conversation. 

“We’re all in Leblanc right now,” Makoto says. “And we’d appreciate it if you could come over, to discuss your experience in Mementos, but also to check up on you. And, well, to apologize. We all owe you an apology, and a proper chance to talk everything out. As a team.”

_ “Uh.”  _ Ryuji pauses, presumably thinking over everything Makoto just said.  _ “That’s, um…that’s real nice of you guys. But I’m good.” _

A beat, as the other Thieves exchange confused looks with each other. The only exceptions, Haru notes, are Yusuke, who doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest, and Akira, who is completely fixated on the phone with an unreadable expression.

“But - Ryuji.” Ann frowns. “We want to apologize to you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Morgana sniffs. The corner of his lip begins to curl slightly in distaste. “Do you not  _ want _ apologies? We’re trying to reach out to you, and this is the thanks we get? Besides, you were in Mementos! You owe us answers - ”

_ “I don’t  _ owe _ you anything,”  _ Ryuji snaps, and suddenly Haru realizes why his voice sounds different. It’s…darker. A darkness lurks just under the surface of his tone, subtle yet chilling, amplifying his voice not through additional volume, but through power. It freezes the heat behind his ferocity, twists it into something clawed and  _ dangerous _ .  _ “And I ain’t gonna keep puttin’ you guys first anymore. There’s somethin’ I gotta do that’s more important than goin’ to Leblanc right now, and my decision to choose my needs over yours ain’t something you can take away from me. Got it?” _

Haru’s heart swells with pride. She still vividly remembers when Ryuji had first confided in her about his old friends, how he’d admitted he’d go back if they asked him to despite everything they’ve done to him, how terrified he’d get whenever he’d spot one of them in the halls. To see him stand his ground like this for  _ himself _ …it’s breathtaking.

Something happened. Something must have happened during those three days in Mementos that caused him to possess so much newfound inner strength. But what?

“W-well - ” Makoto looks to be not too far from Morgana at this point, who’s visibly spluttering. “We just - ”

“I don’t understand what the issue is.” Yusuke arches a thin eyebrow at them. “This isn’t a time-sensitive matter, and he’s already suffered through a large ordeal. Does he not deserve a chance to rest?”

“O-of course he does! I didn’t mean - ”

“That’s enough.”

When Akira speaks, it’s almost painful how clear the heartbreak is in his tone. He speaks with authority, speaks like the leader he is, but Haru can only wonder if the rest of the Thieves, who are far more used to looking up to his leader front rather than past it, can hear what she hears.

“Yusuke’s right.” He still doesn’t look at any of them, doesn’t take his eyes off the phone in Haru’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re exhausted, and that the last thing you’d want is to hear from us. We just…we just want to know if you’re okay.”

The other end is silent. Then,

_ “Yeah.” _ His anger is long gone now, words tinged instead with…sadness, almost. Regret?  _ “Yeah, I’m okay _ .” He sighs, then, a long, slow breath.  _ “I… I do appreciate it. That you guys wanna talk. Just…not right now.” _

“We understand,” Futaba’s voice is still a bit squeaky. “W-we’re sorry.”

_ “Shit, did I scare you, Futaba?” _ He sounds panicked now.  _ “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get that angry in front of you - ”  _

“I-it’s okay!” Futaba stutters out. “I-I’m okay, don’t worry - ”

“Will you be in school tomorrow, Ryuji?” Makoto asks. “You’ve already missed quite a few days.”

_ “Uh…maybe?” _ Then, in more of a mutter to himself,  _ “God, what day even is it…uh - yeah, I’ll be there.” _

“We’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she says. “Get some rest.”

_ “Yep.” _

The line goes dead.

“Really? School?” Futaba says incredulously, as Haru puts her phone away. “Yeah, because if I ever almost die in Mementos, that’s  _ definitely _ the first thing I’d want to be reminded of.”

Makoto’s cheeks flush bright red. “I - what else was I supposed to say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ann shakes her head. “We’ll…we’ll see him, talk things out, and then…and then everything’ll be back to normal again. Right?”

Yusuke frowns. “Is that how that works?”

“Y-yes, Ann’s right.” Makoto nods, her voice assertive, although to Haru it sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself than them. “We’re…we’re a team. We’ll work through this, and then we can focus on Okumura.” She nods again, more to herself than anything. “Um…speaking of which, before we call it a night…are there any more orders of business we should attend to?”

The topic change feels almost jarring. But…it makes sense, doesn’t it? Reverting back to topics like school, and schedules, and planning for Palaces…that’s what Makoto’s familiar with. Someone as intelligent as Makoto surely can’t miss the issues that are all too evident from Haru’s point of view - the breaking team dynamic, the way each member feels so separate from the rest of the team…the uncertainty in everyone’s eyes, including Makoto’s, when she spoke of things returning to normal. 

But she’s afraid. Too afraid of the idea of delving into problems she doesn’t know the answers to, of trying to handle them only to make matters worse, of failure. So for her to automatically jump back to matters within her comfort zone…it makes sense, really.

It’s strange. Looking at the rest of the team discussing plans for tomorrow…Haru feels distant. Like an outsider looking in. She wonders if the rest of the team felt this way too when they had first joined. 

Back to normal…what does “normal” even look like to them?

\---

Everything’s  _ way _ too bright.

The thought continues to press to the forefront of Ryuji’s mind insistently, ever since he exited the train station to aboveground. After spending days in near-complete darkness, the brightness of the setting sun, despite being partially hidden by the horizon and the familiar buildings of his neighborhood, is dizzyingly bright. 

The leftover disorientation from leaving the Metaverse still hasn’t completely worn off yet either. Entering the real world felt like crashing down from the largest adrenaline rush he’s ever experienced, only made more debilitating by the hunger that hit him all too quickly after not eating actual food for three days straight. Ryuji’s stumbled over his own feet more times than he’d like to admit - his bad leg is pretty much dead weight underneath him. Thankfully there’s not many people around to give him weird looks.

Still, he tries to walk as fast as possible. The phone call with Haru is still vivid in his memory, her voice so wrought with panic and anguish and worry that it had cut Ryuji to the core from pure guilt. Not to mention speaking with the rest of the team…

Hell, maybe he shouldn’t have yelled at them like that. But, he doesn’t really find himself regretting it. It probably would’ve been good to talk things out then - “the sooner the better” probably applies to something like this, right? - but it would’ve taken far too long. There’s something important he has to do first. 

Haru’s not the only person he’d hurt with his absence, after all.

His feet come to an automatic stop outside of his own front door. 

It’s strange. Only a few days have gone by, but it feels like…no, he’s not even sure if the time that’s elapsed feels longer or shorter than that. He doesn’t think everything’s fully hit him yet - changing his dad’s heart, meeting the Black Mask,  _ working with _ the Black Mask - but at the same time, it feels like it’s been years since he’s last stood in this spot. 

So much has happened, to the point that he practically feels like an entirely different person, but as he takes in the sight of the peeling paint of the door’s surface and the faded doormat at his feet…the last of his tension finally begins to drain. 

It’s over. He’s…he’s really home. 

The doorknob rattles in his grip. Ryuji grunts as he tries to force the key further into the keyhole - their front door has always been so stupidly hard to open, he  _ hates _ it - but he does manage to muscle the door open. It creaks loudly as he does so, a sound that would normally grate on his nerves but also brings a sense of warm familiarity - 

“Ryuji?”

He looks up just as he’s about to close the door, meeting a stricken expression and tear-filled brown eyes, and his world tunnels.

“Mom.” 

God, it’s  _ so _ good to see her like this, without the weird yellow eyes and the wrongness of everything in Mementos, and he realizes how  _ close _ he had been to never seeing her again, to dying alone at the hands of his dad’s Shadow and leaving her with no idea about the truth of her son’s fate…

Shit. His eyes sting. He’s an  _ awful _ son. 

“God, ma, I’m so sorry, I can explain - ” 

All the air gets completely knocked out of his lungs as his mom nearly tackles him in a hug.

“Ryuji,” she sobs, her words choked and wobbly and muffled as she presses her face into his shoulder, winds her arms tightly around him, desperately grasps at the back of his shirt and his neck like she’s trying to make sure he’s really there. He outgrew her a few years back by nearly a head, so when she tucks her head under his chin, Ryuji gets a faint whiff of roses from her hair. “Ryuji, sweetheart, I - you’re okay? I thought…” She hiccups. “I thought…”

“I’m okay.” They’re still standing in the doorway, but neither of them make any move to go further into the household. He pulls her closer, and feels hot tears soak into the front of his shirt, the heat slicing at him with even more guilt. “I’m sorry. I…I’m right here.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she whispers, her voice so small and afraid Ryuji’s heart nearly breaks in two. “I called the school, I called the gym, I - I even called the police…” She’s trembling now. “Th-they couldn’t find you, a-and…I really thought you…”

“I’m okay,” he repeats, trying to sound as soothing as possible, even though his own eyes are beginning to sting. “Let’s, uh - let’s go inside, yeah?” Her trembling is growing violent, almost, and he’s half-worried she’s going to faint. “I think you should sit.”

She laughs, broken and watery. “You disappear for four days, and you have the nerve to be worried about  _ my _ well-being.” She separates herself enough to look up at him, and Ryuji melts at the pure love radiating from her expression. One hand rises to cup his cheek, the pad of her thumb brushing over the skin underneath his eye tenderly, as tears continue to stream down her face. “You’re the same as always.”

Their home is small, modest at best, so it takes them no time at all to get to their living room after locking the front door. His mom doesn’t let go of him the entire time, not even when they reach their couch - scruffy and old and faded in color, but still surprisingly comfortable. She keeps reaching out to pat his face or card her fingers through his hair, like she’s afraid he’ll disappear on her at any second, and he makes sure to squeeze her hand whenever she does.

Ryuji feels like absolute garbage. He…he really screwed up, didn’t he? He’s never seen his mom like this, not even during their worst days when his dad still lived with them. Never this…shaken. He hates that he’s the one who put that look on her face. Hates that she still hasn’t stopped crying, and it’s all his fault.

“The police told me you probably ran away,” his mom says, still a bit unsteadily, as they sit. Ryuji reaches for the box of tissues they keep on the coffee table and offers it to her. She accepts gratefully, taking out a few and beginning to delicately dry her eyes with them. “They said…they said it was the most likely case…”

“I didn’t!” Ryuji shakes his head rapidly. “I’d never - ”

“I know, sweetheart.” Her eyes are sad, and for a moment they drift a few inches to her right, to something behind Ryuji. “I had a feeling…the truth was much worse than that.”

Frowning, Ryuji turns his head to follow her line of vision. There’s the coffee table, which looks the same as it always does, standing between the couch and their TV…wait. The TV stand…

Next to the TV, in a tall glass vase, is a bouquet of lavender roses.

“Your father came here yesterday,” he hears her say quietly, as he stares at the roses and sees flashbacks of a ten-foot-tall sea demon of the same shade of lavender in the back of his mind. “I was terrified at first, but he…he was so different. A completely changed man. He wouldn’t stop crying, kept apologizing for hurting us and for not being a better husband and father…” 

So his dad really came here? Part of Ryuji still can’t believe it, still can’t believe his  _ dad _ of all people is actually capable of apologizing, especially after all the damage he’s wreaked on their lives. But this…this means it worked, right? Ryuji shouldn’t have had any reason to doubt the effectiveness of using Mementos to change hearts, since it’s never failed them even once, but actually hearing about it, regarding his own dad no less…

“He insisted on giving me the flowers, though.” A disbelieving laugh. “Lavender roses. I didn’t know he still remembered. I gave one to him when we first met. It means ‘love at first sight,’ did you know that?”

The rose in Ryuji’s inner jacket pocket burns.

“Did you…” Ryuji swallows. For some reason, he’s beginning to get nervous. “Uh…do you…forgive him?”

Ryuji has nothing but bad memories of his dad, even now, but his mom…they were in love at some point, weren’t they? And now that he’s changed back to how he was before…would she want him in her life again? As her husband? Ryuji knows, he  _ knows _ he’ll never forgive his dad, but…his mom… 

“Truthfully, dear, I don’t know if I can,” she admits. When he looks at her, she’s still gazing at the roses wistfully. “Maybe before, I would have. And maybe one day, I’ll feel differently. Now, though…I know I don’t need him, so really, what would the point be? I’m just relieved that I never have to worry about him again.”

“Yeah.” Ryuji laughs shakily. “You and me both.”

Never have to worry about him again. Wow.  _ Never _ . It almost feels too good to be true. To hear his mom sound this relieved, her voice clear of the constant stress that always seemed to hang from her like a plague…it’s worth the entire world to him. 

“Can I ask you…” She hesitates for a moment. Her eyes slide over to the currently turned off TV screen, like she’s remembering something that had been playing there in the past. “The Phantom Thieves. The ones that have been all over the news. Is that why…are you…?” 

Ryuji swallows, glancing out the corner of his vision to try to gauge her reaction without being too obvious. He’s not sure if he succeeds - he’s well aware he’s the least subtle person in the world - but from what he can tell, she doesn’t seem…too angry? He thinks?

Well. It’s not like it matters now, right? 

_ “I’m not a Phantom Thief. _ ” That’s what he had said to the Black Mask. He remembers that as clear as day. How despite coming face-to-face with a serial killer who knew his full name, and being in Mementos, completely defenseless, with ice-cold terror coursing through his veins… _ that _ had been the first sentence to come to his lips. A month before, he would’ve been terrified at the prospect, of being stripped of what he had thought was his only purpose in life. But now?

“Not anymore.” He turns to face his mom, who is now wide-eyed, but doesn’t look as shocked as he’d expected, like part of her had already known. “I…I did change his heart. But besides that…I’m done.”

Somewhere, from the depths of his mind, he hears Seiten Teisei’s low, satisfied rumble.

“I…see.” She blinks once, then twice. “So, you disappearing…”

“It won’t happen again,” he says resolutely. “I’m sorry for scarin’ you. But you’ve got nothin’ to worry about now.”

“I’m your mom. It’s my  _ job _ to worry about you.” She ruffles his hair, laughing at his grumbling. She quickly sobers, though, her smile growing sad again. “Cancel your plans for tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ryuji does a double take. Did he hear that correctly? “Uh…the only thing I have planned for tomorrow is going to school…”

“Not anymore you don’t.” She beams brightly, as all he can do is gape at her. He probably looks like a dying fish. “I’m taking a day off tomorrow. So you and I will be spending the entirety of tomorrow together, understood?”

“But - ” What is  _ happening _ ? Is this really his mom? Are Shadow impostors a thing? “Ma, what - you never want to take days off!”

“Well, what’s the use in trying to run myself to the ground like that?” Her eyes twinkle, warm and sweet. She’s practically glowing, which leaves Ryuji dumbfounded for a moment - when was the last time he’s seen her this happy? This bright? “This was only recently, but I realized…I’m already doing enough. It’s high time I do something for my own enjoyment. And what better way to do that than start spending more time with my son?”

She kisses his cheek, and Ryuji, still kind of stunned, can’t help but also laugh, his heart feeling infinitely lighter. 

Did...did he do this? Is this all because of the change of heart?

“C’mon, up,” she chirps, leaping off the couch, still beaming like the sun. “Big day tomorrow, so you’ll need to get your rest! Time for bed!”

And as she pulls him to his feet, Ryuji feels…different. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this relieved. Like he can finally breathe. Like the weight on his shoulders that he’s been carrying his entire life has been knocked clean off, and he’s standing at his full height for the first time. 

He really did it. 

\---

It started, as all gossip does in Shujin, with a whisper. 

_ “Hey, don’t you think Sakamoto seems kinda…different?” _

Gradually, one whisper turns into two, then three, until entire hallways at a time fill with chatter and rumor and giggles, only falling to a hush when they spot a flash of bleach-blond hair, their heads turning to stare as he stalks down the hall. They wonder, they speculate, they snicker, but to all of them, it’s clear as day.

Something about Ryuji Sakamoto  _ is _ different. But what?

_ “Don’t you think he’s gotten cuter?” _

_ “Seriously? Ugh, you have such bad taste in guys…you thought the transfer kid was cute, too.” _

_ “You can’t tell me I’m wrong about that!” _

_ “You’re out of luck, though. He’s always hanging out with that third year, isn’t he? They’re probably dating.” _

_ “Wait, really?” _

No one knows how to explain how he’s different. He just  _ is _ . And it’s odd, really, because at first glance, he seems unchanged. He still wears his usual loud graphic tees instead of the uniform, still has the same general look of disinterest on his face whenever he’s in school, still slouches the same way - although, actually… 

_ “Doesn’t he look taller to you?” _

_ “Huh? Oh…yeah, I guess?” _

_ “But I thought his posture was all weird like that because of what Kamoshida did to him…” _

_ “Maybe he was gone for a week because he got surgery on his leg or something?” _

_ “No, that can’t be it, he still limps. I don’t know, maybe it’s just my imagination.” _

Yet despite that, he  _ does _ seem to stand taller. Like there had been a shadow looming over him, casting darkness over his life, and he’s finally stepped out from under it. There’s a confidence, a purpose, to his every move, to the way he carries himself. And despite the fact he doesn’t consistently spend time with as many people anymore, when they do overhear his conversations, and catch snippets of his laughter, it always sounds so…free. 

_ “Ooh, you should ask him out!” _

_ “Are you insane? He’s terrifying! _ ”

Stories start circling. Students who are infamous for gossiping suddenly going quiet, when they accidentally meet his glare head-on and find themselves silenced from fear. Teachers being overheard mentioning how Sakamoto “unsettles” them. One story in particular grows quite prominent. About how when two third-years cornered a navy-haired timid-looking underclassman, Sakamoto had stepped in front of him, hate cold and clear in his eyes, and had sent them running with just three words:  _ “Back off. Now. _ ” 

One student, who claims to have seen the whole thing, said she had seen Sakamoto’s eyes, and that it had felt like jolts of electricity were running down her spine.

_ “Maybe something happened that one week he was absent from school. Do you remember that?” _

_ “But how can someone change that much in just one week?” _

_ “Do you think he killed someone?” _

Gossip runs rampant, as it always does in Shujin Academy. But above all the ruckus in the hallways, two people, in the calm and quiet of the rooftop garden, blissfully uninvolved with it all, share quiet moments and smiles as they relax under the afternoon sunlight. 

“Everyone seems quite taken with you nowadays,” Haru comments one day, with a giggle hidden behind her palm. “Especially the girls.”

“You kidding? Why?” He snorts. “Not like anything’s changed about me.”

\--- 

This isn’t really how Ryuji had expected his afternoon to go.

One minute, he’s scanning the menu, trying to decide if he wants to try the new dish the ramen shop has just started offering or if he should stick to his usual. The next, Goro Akechi himself is sliding into the seat across from him, breathing raggedly, shielding his face with an open menu.

“Don’t let anyone know I’m here.” His voice is a bit muffled. “Please.”

“Uh…” Ryuji stares for a moment. How could he not? The Detective Prince, of all people, the absolute  _ last _ person he’d ever expect to run into randomly - much less at a run-down ramen shop like this - is asking him for…does this count as a favor? 

It’s not like he really likes the guy or anything, but he’s not an asshole. Akechi’s panting is still audible even through the menu, and, well, it’d be a dick move to just kick him out or something. Besides, this definitely isn’t the weirdest thing to have happened to Ryuji. So he just shrugs. “Sure, dude. Want some water?”

“...that would be nice.”

As Ryuji flags down a waiter, he hears what sounds like dozens of camera shutters going off and teenage girls squealing from outside. He’s sitting at his usual table, which is the one furthest away from the windows and the door, secluded in the corner closest to the kitchen - the staff there know him pretty well by now, and he likes making conversation with the chefs - so it all sounds a bit distant, partially drowned out by the noise from the kitchen. But he thinks he can make out a few screams of “Goro Akechi”s here and there…are they his fans?

Jeez. They’re  _ loud _ . 

Eventually, as the waiter places the glass of water before Akechi and walks away, the ruckus outside begins to die down. Ryuji risks a glance outside, to see the last of what was probably a pretty big crowd dispersing, some shuffling their feet in disappointment, others looking more annoyed. Once they’re all gone from view, Ryuji turns back around. “I think you’re clear.”

Akechi peeks out from behind the menu, focusing on something behind Ryuji - probably just double-checking the validity behind his words, before finally letting out a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness…”

He takes a long drink from his glass. Even as he does, Ryuji notes the way his eyes dart around, taking one last look around his surroundings, still as tense as a tightly-strung wire. It’s only when he sets the glass back down that he also fully sets the menu down, revealing his face in its entirety. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, with another sigh. “I was on my way to get dinner, but they all came from nowhere. This was the first place I could find, and your table was the most hidden - ” 

His eyes finally meet Ryuji’s, and his sentence stutters to an abrupt halt. 

“You’re - ” 

Recognition flashes across his features. Ryuji panics. What’s with that reaction? Why does Akechi seem so surprised to see him? Does he recognize him from the TV station or something? No, there’s no way…that was so long ago. And that reaction was way too strong to just be about a random five-second encounter. So why - ?

“Erm, my apologies.” Akechi clears his throat, and just like that his composure returns, his expression returning back to its normal polite neutrality, so quickly Ryuji almost feels like he imagined it. “You’re…Sakamoto-kun, right? Kurusu-kun’s friend?”

Oh. Is that it? Ryuji suppresses a wince at the mention of the other name. “You can just call me Ryuji. And, uh, I already know who you are.”

“Ah.”

There’s a lapse of awkward silence, as Akechi’s eyebrows knit together, like he’s trying to think of something to say. Which is…strange, to say the least. Isn’t he a detective? Shouldn’t he be an expert at making small talk or something? Isn’t that why all the TV stations want to interview him? 

“Well, ah, thank you for allowing me to hide here,” Akechi says with a light chuckle. “I suppose I’d best get out of your way - ”

“Wait, already?” Ryuji frowns. “Didn’t you say you were gonna get dinner? You’re not gonna eat something?”

Akechi freezes. His eyes search Ryuji’s, perplexed, like that was the last thing he’d expected Ryuji to say. Honestly, Ryuji’s also not sure why he said that. They both honestly have nothing in common. And even though he isn’t a part of the Phantom Thieves anymore, he still isn’t a fan of Akechi and his stuffy attitude. So why did he just offer to spend  _ more _ time with him?

It’s not too late to take it back. Akechi still hasn’t responded yet. Ryuji still has time to fix this, to encourage him to be on his way again. But…Akechi really does look tired. And who knows if those fangirls are still out there waiting… 

God, he can’t believe he’s actually  _ worried _ for this guy. 

“Thank you for the offer,” Akechi says slowly, haltingly, still sounding uncertain. “But - ”

“Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Well, not right now, but - ”

“Then at least eat something before you go.” Ryuji gestures at the menu. “This place is really good. Especially the house special.” 

Akechi is silent, lips pressed together. His expression is unreadable, a war of conflicting emotions buried deep under the surface, something Ryuji’s really only able to detect after months of experience of deciphering Akira’s expressions, where each emotion differs at most only by an eyebrow twitch or a subtle tug at one corner of his mouth. 

Ryuji catches himself, then swears inwardly. Why do his thoughts always go back to _him?_

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” he hears Akechi say somewhat reluctantly. He closes the menu, and nods at Ryuji. “I’ll trust your judgment, then. The house special, was it?”

“Y-yeah.”

Did Akechi just  _ agree _ to spend time with him? God, he can already imagine the headlines: “Detective Prince Caught Having Dinner With Shujin Delinquent.” He can only hope the seclusion of their table will be enough to hide them from any prying eyes.

“So, uh…” Ryuji racks his brain for a way to fill the silence, as the waiter finishes taking their orders. Polite conversation, polite conversation…why can’t schools teach  _ that _ ? At least it’d be useful. More useful than learning the feudal history of Japan, anyway. “...How was work? Long day?”

Akechi sighs. “That would be an understatement. I just finished an interview, actually.”

“Oh.” Ryuji nods, because of  _ course _ he had an interview. He’s  _ Akechi. _ “How’d it go?”

“The same as usual, as far as interviews have been going as of late.” He sounds nonchalant enough, which Ryuji thinks is a good thing. He really doesn’t know what he’s doing right now. “Of course, I received many questions about the Phantom Thieves, as is often the case now.”

Ha. “I’ll bet,” he says. “Does it get annoying?”

Akechi’s gaze intensifies, as he studies Ryuji closer. Ryuji’s not sure why. He didn’t say anything weird…did he? Or is there something on his face?

“It…does get a bit tedious, I’ll admit,” Akechi says. “Your reaction to what I said was…much more muted than I expected, though. I thought you were quite passionate about them?”

He’s talking about his outburst at the TV station, isn’t he? Or…pretty much whenever he’d butt in during his conversations with Akira if they happened to be talking about the Phantom Thieves? Ryuji almost cringes. God, he really does need to tone it down. 

“Guess I’m a little tired today.” He tries to sound casual. Akechi doesn’t need to know about everything that’s happened in his life these past few weeks, after all. “I’ll make sure to scream about ‘em real loud next time you see me, though, if that’s what you want.”

Akechi laughs at that. It’s a little freer than the polite restrained chuckle he uses on TV, which Ryuji doesn’t expect. Hell, he didn’t even think Akechi had a different type of laugh besides that. But it makes him sound…less insufferable. More human. “I’ll look forward to it, then,” he answers.

“Cool.”

There’s another awkward lull in the conversation. Is the food taking longer than usual today? Or is it just him freaking out for no reason? God, this is weird. Why did he do this again? 

Ugh. He supposes it could be worse. And it looks like the conversation’s died, judging by the silence, so it should probably be fine for him to just spend the rest of the time on his phone, right? 

Akechi’s still studying him, though, Ryuji can’t help but notice. Weird. Does have something on his face?

“I’ll admit, I was a bit surprised to see you here alone,” Akechi says. “Your friends aren’t joining you?”

Ryuji snorts. If only he knew. “Nah,” he says. “I’m here alone.”

“Really?”

“I know, I know.” Ryuji can’t help grinning at Akechi’s incredulous look. “Bet I look like a total loser to you, huh?”

“I - I will admit it’s a little surprising,” Akechi says, sounding flustered. But I don’t meant that as an insult - ”

Ryuji laughs. “I’m teasin’ you, don’t worry.” It’s funny seeing someone as composed as him scrambling to not look impolite, he must admit. “But, yeah. Today was pretty busy, so I thought I’d treat myself before goin’ home for the night.”

Akechi hums appreciatively, looking around again. “It is…rather cozy here. I can only hope the food is as nice as the atmosphere.” He smiles. “But, at any rate, I hope you have a more restful night than I will.”

“Oh, uh…” There he goes again. He’s so different compared to how he is on TV, in a way Ryuji hadn’t expected. More…real, if that makes sense. Ryuji’s not sure how else to describe it. “Thanks, man. But, aren’t you on your way home after this, too?”

“Not yet, unfortunately.” He sighs again, more out of annoyance this time. “After dinner, I’m actually going back to the police station. I still have to work on a case.”

“What’s it about?” Ryuji asks, before he manages to catch himself. He chuckles awkwardly. “Sorry. You’re probably not allowed to tell me, right?”

“I’m not,” Akechi says, with another light chuckle. “But really, it’s nothing as exciting as the Phantom Thieves.” He purses his lips. “Still tricky, though. There are quite a few people we have in mind as suspects…at this rate, they’re probably all guilty.”

Ryuji raises his eyebrows at that. “Y’know, I don’t know why, but I didn’t peg you to be the pessimistic type.”

“Really now?” Akechi’s fingers fiddle with the napkin on the table. “Interesting. It comes with the job, really. Everyone knows ‘innocent until proven guilty’ means nothing in reality.” He seems amused at the surprise that’s probably written all over Ryuji’s face. “No one is completely deserving of innocence. Not in this world. It’s all just a matter of when they get caught.”

His words are grim, somber, unfiltered by any sort of guise of politeness or pleasantry. No, Ryuji gets the feeling that Akechi’s being one-hundred percent honest, which is disarming for more than one reason. Why would Akechi reveal this much about his true feelings? To someone who’s basically a stranger to him, no less? And, what he said…is that really how he views life?

“I don’t know…” For some reason, Ryuji finds himself speaking up. “I mean, yeah, there’s plenty of shitty people out there, but if you only judge people by their worst traits…you wouldn’t be able to see their true selves.”

“But couldn’t one argue that a person's true self  _ is _ their worst self?” Akechi counters.

“That ain’t right,” Ryuji says immediately.

“Is it not?”

Akechi’s eyes search Ryuji’s, analyzing him from head to toe, and suddenly Ryuji fully understands that “Detective Prince” isn’t just a meaningless title made up by TV channels trying to appeal to the public. He can almost feel the way Akechi is profiling him, reading every single inch of him as if he were an open file. There’s a new coldness in Akechi’s demeanor…no, more like a lack of warmth, like that of something calculating and mechanical. Ryuji feels so exposed, but he finds that he can’t move, almost like Akechi’s holding him there just with his gaze. 

For a moment it feels like the world has stopped. Like everything else in the restaurant has faded to the background, leaving only him, Akechi, and their words.

“Many people see the world in the way I do.” His voice is low. “I know, because I had to work my way here from nothing. Without a single person believing in me. Back then, and even now, everyone only sees me for my worst. For my flaws, for the slip-ups I make, for the opinions that they see as disagreeable.” 

When he cocks his head, Ryuji catches a glimpse of brewing storm clouds.

“So if that’s how everyone views the world…” Akechi rests his chin on a closed fist. “Does that not make my view the truth?”

“That’s…” Ryuji almost feels like he’s breaking into a sweat, with the sheer pressure of Akechi’s gaze, but he shakes his head. “That’s not how I see the world.” He sets his jaw, and when he speaks again, his voice is a little more firm. “And I don’t think I’m the only one.”

“No?” Akechi says. “Does that not make you naive?”

“Maybe it does,” Ryuji admits. “But I don’t think I’m wrong. Maybe a true self ain’t really someone’s  _ best _ self, either, but, it’s…” His mind goes back to his Persona. Didn’t Morgana say a Persona was someone’s true self? If Akechi were right…then they’d all just be Shadows, wouldn’t they? “It’s more than that. I mean, if people were all bad, then they wouldn’t be able to change.”

“Change…”

Akechi falls silent, as he mulls that over, his fingers still creasing the napkin. His eyes are slightly narrowed now, as he looks at Ryuji. Intrigued. Ryuji swallows. Philosophical discussions like this…they’re so far out of his wheelhouse that this almost feels foreign. It’s not like people would ever listen to someone like him, the exact opposite of what people would define as an “intellectual,” about stuff like this anyway. So for Akechi to actually be listening to him, taking in and processing every word he’s saying, choosing to not immediately discard his thoughts as mere nonsense the way anyone else in his position would…it’s different. 

“Answer me this, then.” Akechi leans forward. “Even if we are to assume that everyone is capable of change…does it make them capable of forgiveness?”

“H-huh?”

“The Phantom Thieves.” He smirks slightly. “Famous for changing the hearts of criminals. But does changing their hearts suddenly absolve them of their previous sin? Does it mean they deserve to be forgiven? Like your school’s previous volleyball coach, Kamoshida.” Ryuji’s heartbeat stutters just at the mention of that name. “His heart was supposedly changed. Which makes him a changed man. But do you think his victims have forgiven him for all he’s done to them? Have  _ you _ forgiven him for all he’s done to you?”

“I…” Ryuji falters. 

“If not, then what’s the point in leaving them alive?” he asks. “Would killing them not yield the same results? What is the difference, between them being alive only to never be accepted as their changed selves, and them being dead? That sort of stagnancy in life…is it not the same punishment as death?”

Ryuji’s suddenly reminded of what he said to the Black Mask. 

_ “I didn’t want him to die. I wanted him to change.” _

He said that, knowing full-well it was an answer he wasn’t fully satisfied with. But…he knows he’ll never forgive his dad. He’ll never want him back in his life, even if he’s changed his heart. So…was there really a point? Did he... 

Ryuji’s hands tighten, clench into white-knuckled fists. A darkness, strange yet familiar, coils around his heart, wraps around his mind. 

Did he make the right choice?

“I…” 

Ryuji looks down.

“I don’t know.”

A beat.

Then the world resumes again, the bustling sounds of the ramen shop and the smells of rich broth surrounding them once more. Ryuji looks up, almost startled by the sudden reintroduction of reality, to see Akechi still looking at him thoughtfully.

“One day, perhaps the Phantom Thieves will ask the same question to themselves,” he says musingly. “And maybe they will decide that yes, they  _ are _ the same. And if they do come to this realization, who would be able to stop them? Do you see why the police want to hold these ‘beloved’ Phantom Thieves accountable?”

While still solemn, his voice now sounds…airier. Lighter in color, lower in intensity. Like those last few sentences were…less honest. Tinged with a facade that Ryuji is more familiar with, the one he always hears on television shows and interviews. But…why is that? What part of those sentences warranted him to be less truthful?

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Here are your orders.”

They both startle a bit at the waiter’s voice. Oh. Right. Their food. How long has it been? Ryuji completely lost track… 

“My apologies if I got too carried away there,” Akechi says sheepishly, over their two steaming bowls of ramen. “I hope I didn’t scare you or anything like that.”

“No, you’re fine,” Ryuji says. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d want to hold a conversation like that with me in the first place.”

“Oh?” Akechi picks up his chopsticks with his left hand, swirling his noodles absentmindedly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know.” Ryuji flushes. Does he really have to explain it out loud? “I’m not, y’know, on the same level as you, when it comes to that kind of stuff. Thought you’d rather talk to someone smarter.”

Akechi’s mouth quirks downwards at that. “Well, I’ll admit, I had certain…assumptions. But personally, I found speaking with you to be quite fulfilling. I rather enjoyed hearing from your point of view. It was very interesting.”

“W-was it?”

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve had company for a meal. I’d forgotten how nice it could be.” Akechi hesitates for a moment. “Perhaps…we could do this again?”

Ryuji blinks. Then, he grins. 

“Y’know, you’re not as bad as I thought,” he says. “I think I like you better when you’re not on a TV screen.”

Akechi laughs that same looser, non-TV laugh from before, tugging a laugh out of Ryuji as well. “Truly? Most would say the opposite.”

“Well, they’re missin’ out.” Ryuji lifts his water glass. “Yeah. Let’s do this again.”

Their glasses clink together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just made a twitter! Feel free to scream at me there -> @lilac_starr
> 
> Gosh I'm so sorry this took so long. I don't even know if anyone's still waiting ahaha, but if you are, I hope you liked it? This one's less action-heavy, and is more to set up things to come, so apologies if it feels boring. I know updates have been slow, but I promise promise promise, no matter how long it takes me, I WILL FINISH THIS FIC!! I promise!! Stuff has been happening, and life has not been kind, but I will not be giving up on this, so please bear with me until then <3 
> 
> Next update hopefully coming by the end of November ish! (That's when vacation starts for me!) Thank you as always for reading <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i procrastinate studying for finals by writing this chapter? absolutely

“Favorite color?”

“…”

“Favorite food?”

“...”

“Hey, can I call you something besides ‘Black Mask’? It’s kind of a mouthful.”

A sigh. “Are you always going to be like this? Dodge left.”

Ryuji grins, narrowly avoiding a shotgun blast by mere inches (who gave the Shadows shotguns?!), before retaliating with his own attack. He’s not sure how, but the Black Mask has kept good on his promise — whenever Ryuji has gone to Mementos (which has only been a few times — it’s only been, what, a week since he fully recovered?), he’s somehow always there. It makes him wonder if the dude just lives there or something. But whenever they  _ have  _ met up, their agenda has pretty much always been the same: beat up a _shit_ ton of Shadows. 

Without taking his eyes off the Shadow in front of them, he says, “C’mon. You already know shit about me, right? Like my name? You gotta at least give me  _ somethin _ ’ about you.”

“I don’t ‘gotta’ do anything.” The Black Mask watches as a bolt of red lightning from Seiten Taisei’s staff blasts the Shadow so intensely it staggers backwards. “I thought I told you to save your skills.”

“Not like I got another option — ” Ryuji’s cut off by the Shadow unleashing a second attack, this time aimed at both of them. Thankfully he reacts in time, so his face is protected from the worst of the flames by his forearm, but even then, it doesn’t feel so bad. Seiten Taisei seems to be better at taking on fire damage compared to Captain Kidd. He shakes his arm out. “Don’t exactly have a weapon, y’know?”

“Really? Still?” The Black Mask looks genuinely surprised by this, even looking over at him as if to double check. Ryuji supposes that reaction makes sense. This is, what, their third time meeting, ever since they’d parted ways last week after Ryuji’s recovery? It’s a bit weird the topic didn’t come up sooner. “You were armed when you were with them, no?”

Ryuji suppresses a grimace. He appreciates the Black Mask not referring to them by name, but even the reminder…No. He shouldn’t let himself get distracted like this. “Forgot to take my stuff with me when I left, I guess.” He reaches for his mask, and three consecutive cracks of…well, not lightning, but what feels like just pure energy, strike the Shadow in the face, the third one so intense it knocks the Shadow off its feet. Its deathly loud banshee wail pierces his eardrums. “It’s why I only had a pipe on me when I was goin’ after my dad’s Shadow, and, well…”

“No. You  _ do _ have a weapon.”

“Huh?”

With a simple flick of the wrist, the Black Mask signals at Loki, who plants his foot on the Shadow’s chest, pinning it to the ground. Ignoring the Shadow’s hissing and wailing — Ryuji was never as good as Akira when it came to understanding what the Shadows say, but this one seems to be begging for its life — the Black Mask turns to Ryuji. “The lavender rose. You kept it, right?”

“How did you — uh, yeah, it’s…” Ryuji rummages around in his inner jacket pocket. He usually keeps it in his room, but something always makes him take it with him to Mementos. For good luck, maybe? 

The Black Mask doesn’t take the rose from him when he pulls it out of his pocket, instead just inspecting it from a distance. “I had my suspicions,” he says with a satisfied nod. “Twist the stem.”

“Uh…like this? Wait — whoa!”

As soon as he does so, the entire rose gleams, completely engulfed in a bright white glow, as it changes shape and form in front of Ryuji’s very eyes — 

— until Ryuji’s no longer holding a rose. No, instead, a three-foot long silver club rests in his hands, the sudden heaviness almost causing Ryuji to fumble. On one end, there’s a spiked orb, almost as big as his head, glinting in the crimson Mementos light. The other end, which he assumes is the handle, is wrapped in leather. And, at the very base of the handle…sits a lavender rose.

“A morningstar.” The Black Mask even seems mildly impressed, which Ryuji is of course taking as an absolute win. “I suppose it suits you.”

“Think so?” After another moment of inspection, he grips it by the handle, giving it a few experimental swings. There’s a satisfying  _ whoosh _ every time he slices it through the air. It feels…really balanced. Better than any other weapon he’s had up to this point even. Wow. “It feels effin’ great, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not surprised. It was technically made for you. As for the gun…” The Black Mask ponders for a moment, before turning back to the Shadow — Ryuji had almost forgotten it was even there — and giving a quick tilt of his head, causing Loki to drive his sword hilt-deep into the Shadow. It dissolves into nothingness with a deafening shriek, the shotgun that had been in its hands clattering to the ground. “That one should do.”

Ryuji stares. It’s times like these where he remembers just how powerful the Black Mask is. Killing that Shadow so effortlessly, so quickly, without a second thought, like it was nothing… “Uh — you sure? It was a Shadow’s — ”

“And now it’s yours,” he replies flippantly. “But that’s not why you reacted that way."

God, what is up with the Black Mask always being able to read him like an open book? Is he a shrink in the real world or something? “It wasn’t for anything bad, if that’s what you were thinkin’,” he says, as he picks up the shotgun. Dark, with arcs of blood red almost carved into it, resembling the walls of Mementos almost. “I was just a little surprised about how quick you killed it. Like, without talkin’ to it or anything.”

“Ah.” The Black Mask scoffs. Lightning flashes in the storm of his eyes. Ryuji can practically  _ see _ his hackles rising. “I assume that’s what your  _ leader _ used to do? Well, I’m not him, nor will I ever  _ be _ him. So I suppose if you’re disappointed, why don’t you just — ”

“That’s not what I meant,” he interjects. “‘Course I don’t want you to be like him. I want you to be like you.” He shrugs. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Everything is strangely silent, save for the sounds of Ryuji checking over the shotgun before sliding it into the holster on his back. When he looks back over, he finds the Black Mask still studying him, arms crossed, mouth twisted into a frown. Eyes fixated, intensely, like Ryuji’s a puzzle he still hasn’t been able to crack. 

“Red. And nothing in particular.”

Ryuji blinks. “What?”

“The answers to your questions.” 

It takes almost another full five seconds for Ryuji to process that. By the time he does, the Black Mask has already started walking away. 

“Wait!” Ryuji scrambles to catch up. “What about the third?”

“I don’t see why it would be necessary, since there are only two of us, and I doubt you have reason to speak of me outside of these encounters.” When Ryuji reaches him, he gives a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowed slightly. “If it isn’t something idiotic...I’ll consider it.”

Ryuji barely resists the urge to throw a fist pump. 

\---

Akira  _ hates _ this Palace.

The corridors are too narrow to avoid Shadows effectively, each area is far too big and requires  _ far _ too much running to navigate within and between them, the stupid robots resist everything except their weakness and it always takes so much time and skills to figure out what those weaknesses are…and, to be fully honest, he’s getting kind of sick of the whole sci-fi theme. 

He’s always liked sci-fi things, but would it have killed Okumura to just tone it down even by a little bit? Hell, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to look at his Space Forneus game the same way ever again. 

Of course, he doesn’t have much reason to play it now anyways. The single-player mode is much less fun compared to co-op, and…

“Uh, Joker?”

Morgana is looking up expectantly at him. Ah. Right. Shadows.

“You okay?” Morgana cocks his head. “You look kinda down.”

From their left, there’s a snort from Ann. “He’s not the only one.”

That’s true. Akira knows for a fact he’s not the only one frustrated by Okumura’s Palace. They all know infiltrating Palaces is a serious matter, but their team atmosphere has never been this…gloomy. They’ve been coming here almost every day this past week, in hopes of being able to get it out of the way as soon as possible, but it seems to only have worsened their mood. He can’t even remember the last time he’s heard one of them laugh. 

“I did think it was strange,” Haru admits. “I didn’t expect you all to be the type to be so downcast.” Then her light brown eyes go wide. “Is it because of my presence? I-I do apologize — ”

“It’s nothing like that, Noir,” Makoto says reassuringly. “This Palace is just a bit…tedious.”

“Those dangerous employees Oracle detected before are up ahead.” Morgana flicks one ear to the right, where five yellow robots stand on a circular platform, the red lights embedding the platform casting an eerie glow on their blank faces. “We’ll have to get past them to get to the Treasure. What’s your call?”

Great.  _ More _ robots. 

“We haven’t seen these before, right?” Akira asks, just to make sure, because God knows he doesn’t have the brainpower to keep track of every single damn robot here. “Do we know anything about them?”

_ “Nope, these guys are new,” _ Futaba confirms, her voice ringing in their heads through Necronomicon, which is flying a few meters above them. It’s honestly a miracle Necronomicon was able to fit in those narrow hallways from before, but at least this area is more spacious. There’s the sound of a few beeps, before she continues,  _ “Physical attacks are probably out of the question again. None of the bots have been weak to ice yet, though. Might be worth a shot.” _

“Okay.” Akira takes a deep breath, and feels his leadership mantle settle over him, a heavy yet familiar, almost comforting, weight on his shoulders. His mind clears, clears of his worries, his fears, everything that isn’t the upcoming battle. Everything around him seems to sharpen in detail, like a camera coming into focus, as the surrounding noises grow less muddled, more distinguishable. And when he exhales, he’s no longer Akira. He’s Joker.

“Panther, Fox, Queen, you’re with me,” he commands. “Everyone else, you’re on backup, but be ready to jump in at any moment. We’ll be outnumbered, so keep your guard up. Does anyone need to make any last-minute preparations before we go?”

“Come to me if you need any supplies,” Makoto says, slinging a bag off her shoulder, her face scrunching slightly from the effort as she does. “Noir, did you say you used your last Rasetsu Ofuda?”

“Ah — yes! That bag looks quite heavy, Queen, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I just have to get used to it. I’m usually not the one to carry it, it used to be — um…someone else.”

“...Ah.” 

As Haru and Makoto continue talking, Akira does one last mental runthrough of the Personas he has access to, swiping through them like cards — Kikuri-Hime giggles at him as she passes by — searching for one Persona in particular…Shit. The one day he decides not to bring Scathach…

“Joker.” Akira glances over at the sound of Yusuke’s voice, which is oddly quiet, for some reason, “Perhaps it would be best if I sat this one out?”

Hm. That’s a first. Yusuke’s usually not the type to make requests like this. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m…rather exhausted.”

Akira’s eyes dart around at his other team members. Yusuke doesn’t seem to be the only one feeling tired. Everyone’s movements are starting to grow a bit sluggish. He thinks he hears a yawn from Ann. He does want to get past this area, though…and besides, they all seem like they’ve got one more battle in them. “We’ll call it a day after this,” he decides. “I think Oracle’s right about the ice thing, so it’ll go a lot quicker with your help. Can you hold out until then?”

“...alright.”

“We’re good to go,” Makoto announces.

_ “Then  _ I’ll _ lead the way!” _ From above, they see Necronomicon speed forward, its green lights spinning and blipping excitedly. “ _ Chaaaaaarge!” _

The four of them share an amused look before following. Oh, Futaba. 

Makoto gets there first. The robots haven’t even finished their usual “ _ All hail President Okumura!” _ spiel before she’s already leaping onto her Persona-bike (he had complained about that to the twins. All the Personas in their Compendium, and not a single motorcycle? Caroline had told him to shut up) and revving the engine. Blasts of nuclear energy swirl down from the sky in arcs of cyans and blues, exploding in perfect spheres of white. Each hits its target dead-on, cutting them off mid-sentence. But when the light clears, all five are still on their feet.

“Nuclear’s no good!” she calls out.

“Neither is fire!” comes Ann’s response after a particularly ferocious fireball from the red-clad Carmen. “Fox?”

Ice crystals form out of thin air, shaping into sparkling eight-pointed stars, beautiful yet deadly, the cold so intense Akira nearly shivers. More and more freeze into existence, all lining up in such a way that they create a picturesque arrangement, before shattering at once into glittering shards, piercing through the robots’ armor. They fall, one by one, almost artistically so, yellows and silvers showered in icy shards that glint with multicolored light. 

_ “Now’s your chance!” _ Futaba cheers.  _ “Beat ‘em up!” _

Akira’s ears pick up on faint noises of metal sliding against metal, and he looks up to see strange sturdy-looking machines beginning to flare to life. What on Earth...what does that label say? He squints, and for a second the world slows, almost coming to a halt, tinged in navy blue, as his senses kick into overdrive, his vision zooming in on those machines, on the text etched into the metal. 

_ Transport Personnel _ . 

Of course.

“Make it quick!” He readies his dagger, calling out as soon as everything reverts to normal speed. “More are coming!” 

“Huh?!” Ann does a double take. “What do you mean,  _ more _ ?”

Sure enough, once the first five robots go up in smoke (did he just hear one of them say “I want a day off”?), there’s the sound of more mechanical whirring, followed by five thuds, as more robots, identical to the first, materialize before their very eyes.

“What the — ” Even from here, Akira can hear Haru’s gasp. “Where did they come from?”

“It’s just the same kind as last time, right?” Makoto cracks her knuckles. “Then let’s just do it all again!”

The rest of the battle, although tedious, goes by in waves of freezing cold and breaking metal and quite a few complaints all around. It’s not like any of them would pose too big of a threat on their own, but, well…there are a  _ lot _ of them. As soon as one falls, another is there to take its place in that same split second. The swarm of robots is endless, neverending, and at some point they all go into autopilot mode — attack, defend, heal, attack… 

It’s only until Akira drives his dagger into the exposed joint of the chin and neck of the last robot, causing it to splutter and spark before dissolving into dust, that he notices the silence that has fallen over the area, save for the harsh ragged breathing from himself and his team members. 

“Is it…over?” Ann pants, wiping the sweat from her brow with a gloved hand. 

_ “Looks like it.”  _ Necronomicon’s lights blink in confirmation.  _ “Great job, you guys!” _

“Are you all okay?” Haru, with Morgana on her heels, joins the rest of them, both wearing identical looks of concern. “That looked quite strenuous.”

“Honestly?” Makoto rolls her shoulders back before dismounting off Johanna in one smooth motion, as Johanna vanishes in a glimmer of bright blue. “Their numbers were what made it feel difficult, but besides that…it was actually quite easy.”

“I’m not surprised.” Morgana looks somber. “They’re overworked, brainwashed,  _ and _ forced to go up against an impossible enemy.” Then, quieter, “I hope nobody ever treats me like that after I turn back into a human…”

Haru goes silent. When Akira turns to her, she’s looking at where the robots were once standing. The brim of her hat casts a darkness over her face, one of despair and disgust…and sadness.

“C-come on, let’s keep going!” There’s a forced cheeriness to Ann’s voice, an artificial brightness like that of fluorescent lighting, but her attempt to lighten the atmosphere is an earnest one. “Don’t look so down, Noir!”

“Let’s get to the next safe room, and then we’ll call it,” Akira says. “Good work today, everyone.”

“Is everyone okay to keep moving then?” Makoto asks, doing a once-over of the team. Then, she falters. “Fox — !”

They all look up, startled at the sudden panic in Makoto’s voice, to see her rushing over just as Yusuke’s knees buckle. 

“Whoa — Fox?” Morgana bounds over, reaching them just after Makoto has crouched next to Yusuke, who is on his knees. Morgana’s eyes are so wide that his pupils are mere pinpricks centered in white circles. “What’s wrong?”

“S-sorry.” Unlike the other three who had just fought, Yusuke’s breathing still hasn’t settled to normal, instead still coming out in rapid strained gasps. His hand grasps at his sweat-matted hair, then at the back of his neck, then his forehead, his head lolling downwards like he no longer has the strength to keep it upright. He swallows hard. “I just…the room spun quite fast — for a moment — I — ”

“Oh no you don’t.” Makoto stops Yusuke’s attempts of standing up again with a hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths. Noir, do you have the supplies? Could you give me a few water bottles, a towel, and a Frost Magatama?”

“Of course — here — ”

“What happened?” Ann exclaims, horrified. “I didn’t see him get hit by anything that hard — does he need a Revival Bead?”

“It’s not an injury.” Makoto says, as Yusuke takes long gulps from the water bottle she gives him. “So I’m not sure how much my or Morgana’s spells will help, but…I guess it’s still worth a shot…”

She presses her hand on Yusuke’s back, between his shoulder blades, and green and white sparks of healing magic glow from her fingers. Although it does seem to have some effect — some of the color has started returning to his formerly bone-white complexion — there’s still no drastic change. 

“He was on the verge of passing out,” she explains, removing her hand in order to wrap the Frost Magatama with a towel before holding it to his forehead. “Most likely due to exhaustion, from what I can tell.” She pauses. “Um, not the status ailment. I mean in general.”

Guilt gnaws at the pit of Akira’s stomach, as he takes in the hunched form of his own teammate. This…this is his fault. He shouldn’t have made Yusuke fight. He should have listened. Why didn’t he listen? 

“I’m alright,” Yusuke manages between gasps. His breathing is still heavy, like he’s forcing himself to breathe as deeply as possible just to be able to get enough air, but at least now his words have become somewhat coherent. He takes the towel from Makoto with a nod of thanks, freeing her hands to instead take the supply bag back from Noir and continue searching through it. “I…I just need a few minutes.”

“Take all the time you need,” Morgana says. “This area should be pretty safe for now. Right, Oracle?”

_ “Yep yep.” _ Her tone is light, but the tremor in her voice is impossible to miss.  _ “You guys cleared out every bot that was in the vicinity. But I’ll keep watch just in case.” _

“How did he get so exhausted, though?” Ann wonders aloud. “Come to think of it, he  _ has _ been getting tired quicker compared to before, but I just thought that was because of the Palace. I didn’t think it was this bad…”

“I think I know why,” Makoto says gravely. “Fox, when’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

There’s an almost painfully long hush, as Yusuke thinks, his brow furrowed. Yet he doesn’t even have to answer. The silence speaks for itself. 

They’ve all grown accustomed to Yusuke’s constant complaints of hunger, and have poked fun at him before for seemingly never remembering to eat. It’s never resulted in something this drastic, though. What changed? 

“Oh, Fox…” Noir sighs sadly. “Please don’t neglect your own health like this. You need energy, especially for infiltrating a Palace…”

“We’ve gone to the Metaverse almost every day this week,” Morgana says. “That’s probably why he’s more tired than usual. We should get you something to eat after this.”

“I’ll get you some curry.” Akira finally finds his voice, but can’t hide the overwhelming guilt from leaking through his words. “I’m sorry, Fox. I should’ve known something was wrong when you asked not to fight…I didn’t know. You could’ve eaten at Leblanc. You know Sojiro doesn’t mind treating you.”

“I know. And I appreciate it.” Yusuke’s next breath sounds more like a sigh. “Truthfully, it…always slips my mind. After we return from the Palace or Mementos, I just head straight to Kosei.”

“Really?” Ann tilts her head, tapping one finger against her chin. “Don’t you usually go to get beef bowls with — ”

Her sentence halts abruptly. But it’s enough for the last of the puzzle to fall into place.

The silence grows awkward. 

Makoto’s the one who breaks it first, shaking her head. “We’re going to have to talk about this at some point. It’s already been more than a week.”

“Right now?” Morgana asks, incredulous. “Here? When we have bigger things to worry about?” 

He gestures pointedly at Yusuke.

“I know, I just meant — ” Makoto stops herself, instead just letting out a long exhale through her nose. “Never mind. Let’s…head back for now.”

“Is that okay?” Ann seems dubious. “Can you walk, Fox?”

“We should still have a Goho-M. I know you don’t like using them, Joker, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to have Fox — ”

“No, I agree. Go ahead.” 

It’s the least he could do, after all. After being the reason why Yusuke…He can’t even bring himself to look at him. God. He’s supposed to be their leader. He’s supposed to support them, to protect them…but instead, he’s just hurting them even more. 

His eyes burn, as an intense self-loathing, one that snaps its jaws harshly, seizes him, tears into him until he bleeds, but instead of blood it’s memories that come rushing out. Memories of the team snapping at each other, of the tense joyless atmosphere bleached of color whenever they even try to continue working together, of the dial tone beeping for what felt like hours after Ryuji ended the call…of Ryuji’s face, full of hurt, just before he turned his back on them…and all Akira can do is watch. 

Everything passes by in flashes, like he’s viewing all of them from above, like he’s nothing more than a powerless spectator wearing the fake crown of an unworthy king. He knows. He knows he only has himself to blame for all of this. For  _ everything _ . But he’s just…he’s just not enough. 

His leadership mantle no longer feels like a comforting weight, but rather one that threatens to crush him into the dirt. The only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him from feeling exposed, vulnerable, _open_ , is the feeling of his mask on his face. Like a barrier between himself and the world.

Why…why can’t he do  _ anything _ right?

\---

As Ann boards the train, she feels her phone buzz in her pocket. Slipping past two other passengers and around two people she recognizes as Shujin students, she reaches a pole with relatively few people surrounding it compared to the rest of the train, and grabs onto it with her left hand. With her right, she digs the phone out of her pocket.

Oh. A text from Futaba? 

_ Futaba Sakura: update for u on inari _

_ Futaba Sakura: hes feeling a lot better since last night _

_ Futaba Sakura: we r making him stay in akiras room for the rest of the day so sojiro can keep an eye on him _

She sighs in relief. Thank goodness. Seeing Yusuke like that yesterday, so unsteady and weak and seemingly a second away from collapsing…it was…scary. Definitely not something she’d ever want to see happen again. 

_ Ann Takamaki: thanks for the update, i’m glad he’s feeling better _

_ Ann Takamaki: did he eat breakfast? _

_ Futaba Sakura: hes eating rn _

_ Futaba Sakura: think hes gonna take another nap when hes done _

_ Ann Takamaki: god i wish that were me _

_ Futaba Sakura: m o o d _

She’s thankful they at least still have Futaba to help keep things lighthearted. The somberness present at every Phantom Thief meeting tends to get…depressing, to say the least. But she knows better than to try complaining about it. They all already know why anyways. 

She’s about to send another text to Futaba, when… 

“Ah, good morning, Sakamoto-kun.”

Her head snaps up. Did she hear that correctly?

“Hm? Oh, hey, man! What’s up?”

She looks around, until a flash of bright yellow catches her eye. And when she turns in that direction, she spots Ryuji, like she expected, but the person he’s with…she almost has to do a double take. Because there’s no way she would’ve expected to see Ryuji with  _ him  _ in a million years. 

Goro Akechi. 

Two complete opposites. Of two completely different paths. With absolutely no reason to ever voluntarily choose to share the same space, much less interact with each other.

Chatting like they’re old friends. 

_ Ann Takamaki: uh, is ryuji friends w akechi? _

_ Futaba Sakura: friends????  _

_ Futaba Sakura: he hates his guts _

_ Futaba Sakura: why would u think that? _

This is too weird. Ann watches, suspicious, as Ryuji laughs at something Akechi says. It’s a quiet laugh, more hesitant than his usual explosive bursts of laughter. Almost like he’s nervous? But the smile on his face…it’s real. More real than any of the smiles she remembers seeing from him in the past few months, back when he was still…with them.

Her phone vibrates, breaking her out of her reverie. 

_ Futaba Sakura: ann??? _

_ Ann Takamaki: i’m on the train w them _

_ Ann Takamaki: they’re talking abt something? _

_ Futaba Sakura: O_o _

_ Futaba Sakura: why would they have any reason to talk to each other?! _

_ Ann Takamaki: that’s what i’ve been wondering… _

As she types, snippets of their exchange reach her ears. The train car is crowded, but not as packed as it is usually (she took an earlier train today — is that why she hasn’t run into Ryuji on the train recently? Is he always this early?). And besides the two Shujin students talking nearby and the thrumming of the train as it moves steadily onwards, there aren’t many other noises acting as interference. Which isn’t a surprise, really — it’s way too early for most to have the energy to initiate or carry out conversations for long. Besides, with how much time she used to spend with Ryuji and how often she hears Akechi’s voice in broadcasted interviews, their voices would be impossible for her to miss anyway.

“— personally still not convinced, but I suppose it’s an interesting trick to consider, given — er. Sakamoto-kun?”

“...gonna be honest, dude, you lost me a while back.” 

“Ah. I thought you said you’ve played billiards before?”

“I have, but…I just don’t get how that’d work. I mean, a ‘jump shot’? That…that just sounds _way_ too crazy to be an actual thing!”

There’s the sound of something akin to a sigh. No, less like a sigh, and more like an exhale through the nose. It reminds Ann of Morgana or Makoto’s reactions whenever Ryuji would admit to being confused about something, except Akechi doesn’t sound frustrated or exasperated. More like…he’s thinking hard about something. 

“S-sorry…” Ryuji sounds sheepish. “I know you just explained it, but…guess I’m just too dumb to get it, right?”

“Hm? No, not in the slightest. It’s a complex strategy. Here, let me try explaining it this way…”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Curious, Ann looks over at them again, to see Akechi pulling something out of his jacket pocket. A small notebook. 

“O-oh, you — you don’t have to waste your time tryin’ to explain it again — ”

“Nonsense. It’s not a waste of time. I take you to be more of a kinesthetic learner anyway. Someone who learns best by doing. Or, at the very least, a visual might be more helpful. Am I correct?”

“Uh…I’ve never thought about that. Maybe?”

“Here — ” There’s the sound of crumpling paper. “The idea is, if I were to aim at the ball from above, just between the center and the bottom…”

Ann’s phone buzzes again.

_ Futaba Sakura: what r they even talking abt anyways?? _

_ Ann Takamaki: uh _

_ Ann Takamaki: they’re talking abt billiards _

_ Futaba Sakura: huh? srsly? y billiards? _

“So if you elevate the cue stick — or, well, the pen — such that it’s at this angle…”

“Oh, I getcha!” The grin in Ryuji’s voice shines through like a spotlight through darkness. “Then it spins like this, right?”

“Precisely. The applied downward pressure is what then allows it to ‘jump up,’ like so. I can’t reenact it exactly without the proper equipment, but I hope I was able to clear things up at least a little.”

“Yeah, thanks a bunch! It kinda makes me wanna give it a try if I ever play again…”

“Please, feel free to invite me if you do. I’m a big fan of the game myself.”

_ Ann Takamaki: futaba… _

_ Ann Takamaki: we were really mean to him, weren’t we? _

_ Futaba Sakura: ann? _

_ Ann Takamaki: i just _

Akechi was so…patient. So willing to explain things again, without sounding annoyed or condescending in the slightest. There’s no way the two of them could be very close friends, but…that just makes everything worse, doesn’t it? The fact that Akechi, who’s probably just a recent friend at best, is showing more understanding, more  _ kindness _ , to someone so utterly different from him, than the people who used to call themselves his closest friends… 

Her grip on her phone involuntarily tightens. Shame heats her face, burns the back of her eyes, scalds her throat as she swallows, until it settles in the pit of her stomach, a heavy weight so awful and uncomfortable and  _ scorching _ . Not like Carmen’s fire, the heat of which is as familiar to her as the back of her hand, but…something far less pleasant. A fire that gnaws at her very being, threatens to burn her up from the inside out.

She tried. She did everything she could, to avoid being perceived as the “dumb one.” Even if it meant pushing that role onto someone else — pushing that role onto  _ Ryuji _ — and egging everyone else on whenever possible… 

_Ann Takamaki:_ _it’s my fault_

_ Futaba Sakura: ? _

_ Futaba Sakura: ann are you ok? _

_ “Aoyama-Itchome. This is Aoyama-Itchome.” _

The train screeches to a stop, as the announcement rings out throughout the train car.

When she looks up, Ryuji is already gone.

\---

“I didn’t take you to be the type of person who would come to a place like this, Sakamoto-kun.”

“Really?” Sakamoto looks around the stationary store they’re in, which Goro almost snorts at. Does he really not see it? The beige walls, the overhead lights that seem to wash away every trace of color once present, the shelves of notebooks and paper and pens all lined in rows…all so void of brightness, of vibrancy, of life. The complete opposite of someone like Sakamoto, who seems to radiate life effortlessly at all hours of the day. Almost insufferably so. Even when in the dark twisted depths of Mementos.

“I guess you’re right,” he eventually admits, heading for the nearest shelf, Goro right behind him. He picks up a solid-colored pastel yellow A5 notebook, scanning it thoughtfully. “Honestly, I just come here to buy stuff for my ma. She goes through notebooks like crazy.”

Ah. That does make more sense.

Goro finds himself wondering about Sakamoto’s mother. He doubts he’d be able to get away with asking about her without at least one strange look from him, but he can’t help his curiosity. Sakamoto hadn’t only changed his father’s heart that day, after all — his mother’s Shadow was there, too. Changing her heart without even engaging in combat with her Shadow…he wonders if the results would be any different. 

“I remember my mother used to like going to stationary stores as well.” His finger traces over the surface of a different notebook - teal instead of yellow. “Perhaps it’s a mother thing?”

“‘Used to’?” Sakamoto echoes, glancing over. “Did somethin’ happen?”

He hesitates. He knows he shouldn’t risk oversharing, especially when he’s already divulged so much to him as the Black Mask. Lying would be the best option here, the safest one. He should say what he always says when classmates or interviewers ask about his parents—“they’re overseas.” Simple as that. But when he opens his mouth…it’s not his usual lie that emerges.

“I…live alone.” Goro keeps his eyes fixed on the notebook, flipping through the pages as if it made a difference, as if expecting there to be something different on one of the pages. Isn’t that one of the definitions of insanity? Ha. Perhaps this is fate’s idea of a joke. “I’ve lived alone for around five years now.”

“Akechi…”

Stupid. Why did he say that? Sakamoto certainly didn’t need to know that much. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Sakamoto’s words are equal parts shocked and uncertain. “I didn’t know — ”

“Not many people do.” He can’t help the dryness that seeps into his time when he says, “I imagine you must be quite surprised. You probably assumed I lived a perfect life? That I’m nothing more than a shallow TV personality, with no problems outside of scheduling my next interview?”

“N-no, that’s — ”

Sakamoto stops himself with a huff, before relenting. Because that’s another thing that differs between them. Sakamoto can’t lie even if he tries. He’s far too earnest to be able to treat lies like they’re nothing. 

But Goro’s entire life is built on them. 

“It’s…hard, to not see you as perfect,” Sakamoto admits, albeit reluctantly. “‘Specially when the media’s always takin’ every chance they can get to praise you. Honestly, it gets kinda annoyin’.”

At this, Goro does snort. As blunt as ever. Considering the people that surround his usual day-to-day life — criminals desperate to save face, talk show hosts and reporters acting overly-friendly in the hopes of weaseling something out of him that they can use to boost their own ratings, fans that claim to love him even though they know nothing about him…even Kurusu, the only other person he spends time with regularly of his own volition, wears so many masks it’s a miracle he hasn’t broken one yet trying to balance them all — Sakamoto’s honesty is…refreshing.

There’s the sound of shuffling papers, before Sakamoto continues, “But I shouldn’t have assumed shit like that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Goro waves him off with an airy chuckle, allowing his friendly-with-the-public demeanor to fall back into place in full. “It was merely a jest. And the matter of my parents no longer bothers me much, anyways.”

“…it’s okay if it does, though.”

Frowning slightly, Goro looks up, to see Sakamoto looking right back at him. What…

He just sighs. Did he…roll his eyes? “Y’know, sometimes you talk like you still think you’re in an interview.” At Goro’s stunned silence, Sakamoto grins. “C’mon, you don’t have to talk like that around me. Say whatever you want! If you’re upset, you don’t have to hold it in. That’s why I’m here, right?”

Sakamoto claps him on the back, his grin as wide as ever, before sliding past him to the next shelf. But Goro doesn’t immediately follow. For a moment, all he can do is just stand there.

Why is he doing this? 

Confusion, doubt,  _ uncertainty _ , fire at him from all angles, and it’s all Goro can do to keep his expression schooled into something neutral. To stop his front from falling apart, as all his emotions clash at once, warring within the very confines of his mind. 

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be spending time with Sakamoto. Hell, he shouldn’t have agreed to have dinner with Sakamoto in the first place, back at the ramen house two weeks ago. Why did he do something so reckless?

And more importantly…why is he  _ continuing _ to choose to do this? It’s not the same as with Kurusu — Sakamoto’s made it very clear he’s no longer a member of the Phantom Thieves, so it’s not like he’s gaining any new intel. He doesn’t gain anything from this — there's no justification he could possibly make. So  _ why _ ? 

What’s the point of trying to grow closer with someone he’ll eventually have to betray? When it’ll only distract him from the goal he’s been working towards all these years? When it won't even matter in the end regardless? 

_ If I meet the right person? Someone who  _ gets _ it? I’d risk it again. _

Sakamoto’s words ring in his ears. He shakes his head, his hands clenching into fists. 

No. _No._

There’s no way those words could be getting to him this much. He’s  _ not _ an idiot. He’s  _ not _ so weak-willed that he’d actually  _ believe _ Sakamoto. He’s  _ not _ so pathetic that some part of him would still be this desperate to latch onto someone who… could understand him… 

His heated indignation cracks, as waves of a strange sadness threaten to spill over.  God. What's gotten into him?

Something about Sakamoto…his smiles, his honesty, his energy…is just  _ magnetic _ . It makes him wonder how his school, and the Phantom Thieves, and the  _ world _ , had found it so easy to leave him. It’s the kind of aura Goro had spent his entire life learning to falsify for himself…yet Sakamoto just has it naturally.

Goro can’t wrap his head around it. Everything about Sakamoto is just so perplexing. This…whatever this thing between them is called…it can't work. It  _ shouldn’t  _ work. So why is Goro still here, still agreeing to spend more time with him? And, a better question…

“Sakamoto-kun.”

The other is in the midst of scribbling in one of the notebooks the store leaves open for customers to test out pens, as Goro approaches. “Hm?”

“Why  _ are _ you here?”

Sakamoto blinks at this, looking up. His hand pauses in the middle of his doodle of — what is that? Goro can’t quite make it out from here. “Uh, didn’t I say? My ma - ”

“Apologies. I mean…why do you still spend time with me? You’ve made it clear you held no positive regard for me before.”

He winces. “D-did I say that?”

“I’m a detective, Sakamoto-kun.”

“What, so that means you can read minds or some shit?” Sakamoto’s scowl has no heat behind it, though. He looks back down at his drawing, but the pen in his hands doesn’t move. The tips of his ears are tinged with scarlet. “It’s just…nice to spend time with someone who's not always actin' like they're better than me. That’s all.”

“That’s…quite a low bar.”

A soft exhale. “I know.”

Something stabs at Goro’s chest. A strange pain, one that makes his heart feel uncomfortably tight in his ribcage. An…unfamiliar feeling. He’s not sure what to call it. 

“And there we go…” There’s the sound of pen scratching against paper, before Sakamoto finishes with a flourish. He looks up, his smile returning already, at full brightness, like nothing happened. Like seeing Goro was all he’d needed to smile again. “Whaddaya think?”

Goro steps closer to get a better look. It’s in all red ink, as that was the only pen Sakamoto seemed to have used, and it’s a bit cartoonish, but… 

“A flowerbed?” Sakamoto did mention gardening before, didn’t he? “It looks nice, Sakamoto-kun.”

“Ugh.” He  _ definitely _ rolls his eyes this time. “I keep tellin’ you. It’s been, what, two weeks? You can call me Ryuji, y’know.”

“Ah — ” Goro scratches the back of his neck, trying to mask his true feelings as sheepishness. “It’s just a habit. And besides, I’m not sure if that’d be alright — ”

“‘Course it is! We’re friends, right?”

Friends.

Is that what they are? Can Goro really give that to himself? 

The idea of calling Sakamoto by his first name…the idea of Sakamoto calling  _ him _ by his first name…it would make this far too real. It would really make Sakamoto...a friend. A friend he will eventually have to hurt, and betray, and leave behind, because he'll have no other choice. Not if he wants to succeed in his plan. And he…

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Sakamoto falters. “Sorry, I kinda said that without thinking…”

Goro closes his eyes briefly. 

He can’t risk it. 

“It’s just a habit, as I said.” Goro attempts at a smile. “It will take me a while to get used to saying otherwise.”

“Oh…” For a moment, Goro swears he sounds disappointed. But it vanishes almost immediately, as Sakamoto perks back up. “No worries, man! Take your time. Here, wanna try this pen out? I think you’d like it.”

What an odd subject to change to. It pulls a chuckle out of him. “What leads you to believe so?”

“Hm…” Sakamoto pauses for a second, tapping the end of the pen to his chin in thought. “I dunno. Red just kinda suits you.”

Did he — ? A flash of pure astonishment nearly throws Goro off guard. No, it’s just a coincidence. There’s no way Sakamoto could have connected the dots. All he did was mention the color red. That's all. Goro does his best to calm his now racing heart. Nothing more than that.

“Oh, this page is kinda full now, though…” Sakamoto mutters. “One sec — ”

Sakamoto turns the page, revealing a new one. A blank white canvas, completely untouched, teeming with infinite possibilities. Infinite words and drawings and everything in between, all ready to come to life at just the brush of a pen. 

Not a friendship. He can’t let himself…no. He doesn’t need friends. He  _ doesn’t _ . But… 

Goro takes the pen Sakamoto hands to him. 

At least for now…maybe he can let himself have this. This strange, new…thing. Until…the inevitable. Just for now. 

He presses the tip of the pen against the paper.

\---

Haru is…weirdly quiet today.

Besides her usual greeting, a distracted comment about the weather, and a half-hearted insistence that she was “fine” when he commented about it while they were eating lunch, she hasn’t said a single other word ever since she began gardening. Her brow has been creased into a frown ever since she stepped foot on the roof, and her movements are slower — not out of tiredness, but more like her attention is somewhere completely different. It’s so…unlike her, to be this unfocused. She doesn’t even look up until the third time Ryuji snaps his fingers in her face.

“Seriously, is everything okay?” he asks, once she jolts out of whatever reverie she was in. “We don’t have to garden today if you don’t wanna — ”

“No, that’s not it…” Haru bites her lip. She still won’t look him in the eye. “It’s just…”

She trails off, her eyes still trained on the plant box before her. When she exhales, it’s slow and quiet and…sad. 

“Hey.” He sets his tools down. “You know I’m here for you if you need me.”

This does cause the corner of her lip to quirk upwards. “I know. I’m just…finding it a bit difficult to put all my thoughts into words.”

“I gotcha. Take your time.”

“I…”

She bows her head, gently setting her own tools to the side. When she speaks again, her voice is much quieter, just barely audible over the autumn breeze. 

“Yesterday, I…placed a calling card in my father’s study.”

Ryuji’s eyes widen. 

Shit. Time really does fly. The past few weeks have felt like a whirlwind, like everything major in his life chose to happen all at once, and now all of a sudden it’s October. Only a few days before Haru’s whole…marriage situation. 

(The thought still makes his skin crawl…she’s still in  _ high school,  _ for crying out loud.)

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” he says. “Are you…doin’ okay?”

“I’m alright.” She meets his eyes across the planter with a small smile. “I suppose it’s just…everything finally catching up. It’s…overwhelming.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Realization strikes Ryuji like lightning. “This is your first Palace.”

Uncertainty is etched into the crease of her brow. “Is it strange that I’m…nervous? The comments on the Phan-site, too…I’m not sure if you’ve been keeping up, but they’ve grown quite…frightening.”

Frightening? Ryuji frowns. It’s been a while since he’s checked the Phan-site — it just hasn’t been on his mind as of late — but he wonders what she could mean by that. Well, whatever. That’s not important right now.

“I think everyone always feels at least a little nervous about stealin’ a Treasure even if they  _ have _ done it before,” Ryuji says. “The most important thing is to stay focused. Don’t think about the comments, or messing up, or anything that ain’t related to your goal. The only thing that matters is changin’ your dad’s heart. Remember that. And then you’ll be okay. I promise.”

Haru nods, her eyes solemn. “And…” She hesitates. “Do you think…I’ll have to fight my father?”

“His Shadow?” Ryuji does his best not to wince. Considering their track history… “Yeah. Probably.”

She doesn’t look pleased by that, but she also doesn’t look too surprised. Like she was expecting that answer. “I see…”

“You’ll be okay,” he repeats. “Have a little more faith in yourself, yeah? You’ve got your goal, and your Persona, which is probably more kickass than anyone else’s since it’s you we’re talkin’ about — ” Haru giggles. “ — you’ve got everything you need. And I’ll be rootin’ for you from here. Don’t forget that.”

Fear still lurks in the depths of Haru’s coffee-colored eyes. A fear Ryuji recognizes all too well — the fear of failure. Because Ryuji knows, probably more than anyone besides Haru herself, that she wants nothing more than to save her dad from himself. To finally have him back in her life, freed from the dark murky depths of corruption and capable of returning all the love Haru has unconditionally given him all these years. What happens today…will probably remain the most significant moment of her life for a long while to come. And it’s all completely up to her.

But when she looks at him…some of that fear seems to lessen. And when she takes a deep breath in, it’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

“Thank you, Ryuji-kun.” Her smile is warm. “For everything. I — ”

The rooftop door slams open.

Ryuji and Haru both jump, startled, quickly turning to the direction of the door to see… 

“Oh, Mako-chan.” Haru blinks. “Is something the matter?”

Makoto’s face is grim. “You haven’t checked your phone?”

“No…?” Haru glances worriedly at Ryuji, who can only shrug — if she didn’t know, he  _ definitely _ wouldn’t — then back at Makoto. “Did something happen?”

“We can’t find Akira.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter -> @lilac_starr (come scream at me!)
> 
> Special thanks to the pegoryu discord! You've all been so kind!! And thank you everyone as always for reading <3
> 
> I feel like I say this every time but I'm not proud of this chapter ahhhh anything involving writing from Akira's POV makes me so nervous, not to mention Akechi... But! The next chapter is when things get...interesting ;) 
> 
> (Also i know nothing about billiards OR stationary why do i keep doing this to myself??)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNING: PANIC ATTACK! PLEASE READ!!!  
> There's a p significant chunk of this chapter (a small part in the beginning and a MUCH larger part in the middle) that depicts Akira going through a panic attack, or at least signs of panic. I apologize if it comes off as inaccurate/insensitive in any way, as it's my first time writing something like this. If feedback about it is negative, I'll fix it.
> 
> If you'd like to avoid it, skip over the sections beginning with "(!!!! CW !!!!! SKIP IF NEEDED!)" until it reads "(!!!!! CW END !!!!!!)." Summaries will be included after each one if you choose to skip.
> 
> Stay safe <3 and as always, thank you for reading!

**(!!!! CW !!!!! SKIP IF NEEDED!)**

Cold. 

Where is he? When did he get here?

He grasps at his face, his fingers searching for something—for what?—yet finding nothing but emptiness, coldness, _wrongness_ , and a cold unyielding fear crushes him, grips his lungs, twists round his chest and _squeezes_ —

Where is it? _Where is it?_

He can _feel_ the fear seizing control of his features, pulling his eyes open too wide, locking his jaw, and he tries anything, _everything_ , to wrest control back from it but all he can do is hide his face, curl up tighter, his fingernails digging into his shins as he wraps his arms around his knees—

He’s not sure when the tears started. 

_Please…_

_Make it stop…_

**(!!!!! CW END !!!!!!)**

(Summary for those who skipped: Akira panics, searching for something that isn't there with him.)

\---

_“You are aware that it is currently the middle of the school day, yes?”_ is what Yusuke says as soon as the call connects. _“Thankfully my lunch break just began not too long ago…but may I ask what warranted this?”_

 _“Kay, Yusuke’s here,”_ Futaba chirps. _“So spill! What’s going on?”_

Makoto tenses when she notices everyone has turned their attention on her. Right. Since Akira’s not here…

She looks around at their team, scattered around the rooftop, so much smaller than she remembered. At Ann, seated at one of the desks, face pinched tight with worry. At Morgana, pacing at her feet in agitation. At where Futaba and Yusuke’s voices are originating from the phone in Ann’s white-knuckled grip. At Haru, standing near the door, facing her directly. And, next to her, partly hidden in shadow and partly hidden by Haru as if she’s protecting him…

“Makoto?”

“Sorry.” Makoto clears her throat, hoping her jolt at Ann’s voice wasn’t too noticeable. She should cut right to the chase, right? “We…were wondering if either of you have heard anything about Akira’s whereabouts. Since we…currently do not know them.”

There’s silence.

 _“Wait, what?!”_ Futaba nearly screeches. _“You_ lost _Akira?!”_

“We didn’t lose him!” Morgana protests. “He just…ran off.”

At the resulting confusion from the rest of the team, Haru speaks up. “Could you give us the full story, Mona-chan? It would be helpful for us all to be on the same page.”

“I agree,” Makoto says. “Even I’m not quite sure what happened.”

Morgana stops pacing, finally. “Honestly, I…I’m not really sure? We were just talking, and then I looked away for a second, and he was just…gone.” His nose scrunches up. “Maybe Lady Ann saw something, but…”

They look at Ann, who shakes her head. “Someone behind me was asking me for the homework. By the time I turned back around, Akira was already halfway out the door. I thought it was weird he left Morgana behind, but I assumed he was just going to the bathroom or something.”

“It was only when he didn’t come back after ten minutes that we thought something might’ve been wrong,” Morgana says. “Then when all of Lady Ann’s calls went straight to voicemail…that’s when we told Makoto. And, well, here we are.”

The wind is the only thing that breaks the silence, as they all fall into deep thought. For Akira to run off, for seemingly no reason, and without even taking Morgana…it’s unlike him to act like that. He’s always been collected, level-headed even under the mountains of pressure of keeping an entire team alive when facing the monstrosities of the Metaverse. For him to do something so irrational…it’s thrown them all off guard.

 _“I apologize.”_ Yusuke’s normally smooth baritone is twisted in knots. _“But I have not gotten word from him today.”_

_“Me neither…”_

“He wouldn’t just disappear, would he?” Haru’s eyebrows knit together. “We’re stealing the Treasure later today…”

“Which is why this is so perplexing,” Makoto says with a sigh. “But we can’t find him anywhere. I…I just don’t understand…”

 _“Have you asked his other friends?”_ Futaba asks. _“Maybe Ryuji knows something?”_

The air suddenly feels thicker. 

_“What?”_ Even Futaba seems to notice the change of atmosphere through the phone. _“It’s a good idea!”_

Ann bites her lip, glancing in Haru’s direction. “Futaba…Ryuji’s already here.”

 _“He is?”_ Futaba gasps. _“Then ask him!”_

Haru giggles. Even Makoto has to fight off a smile. It’s a good thing she doesn’t feel awkward about all this. Makoto herself, on the other hand…

She closes her eyes, steeling herself. This isn’t the time to get caught up in that. Akira might need them, and the rest are relying on her to lead them right now. She can’t keep letting her personal feelings get in the way of her being a good leader. Not when the threat of failing again looms over her, a wall that threatens to topple over and crush her in the rubble, and reduce her to nothing.

So she squares her shoulders.

“Ryuji.” 

She turns to face him, and almost loses her resolve right then and there. 

Makoto remembers, years ago, when her father’s heart had not yet stopped beating and her sister’s had not yet turned to ice, the time Sae had taken her to the zoo on their first day of summer vacation. Makoto had just finished her second-to-last year of elementary school at the time, so Sae had encouraged her to practice her reading skills by looking at every sign and studying every single informational plaque she laid her eyes on. 

Most of what she had read has become lost in the rosy haze of childhood memories. But there’s one sign that is still clear in her mind, that she can still visualize almost like it’s right in front of her, bold text engraved in sun-warmed copper. 

_Avoid direct eye contact._

She remembers, because soon after she had looked up from the sign, she was met with the fiery red stare of a silverback gorilla. 

At the time, she had squeaked and immediately took cover behind Sae, clutching at her leg and hiding her face for an embarrassingly amount of minutes. She had been so terrified she couldn’t even meet anyone’s eyes for the rest of the day, even Sae’s. Too afraid that if she looked up, she’d see that same ferocious anger barely contained in the eyes that would meet her own. 

But the gorilla hadn’t even charged at her. It had just stared. Regarded her, with threatening eyes shielded behind a layer of glass, the threat of attack simmering beneath its tensed muscles and red glare.

The color is wrong — dark, with flecks of gold, not red — and she’s grown significantly since then, but when she looks Ryuji in the eye for the first time in nearly a month…she suddenly feels like she’s nine years old again, back in that same spot, staring into the eyes of a dangerous, _dangerous_ predator.

(She tries to tune out the rumor mill as much as possible, but…something really _is_ different about him. Has he always towered over her like this? Has he always radiated this much… _presence_? Even when half-hidden by darkness?)

 _Calm down_. She takes a breath. Why is she so nervous? This is Ryuji. The same Ryuji who wanted to give her “Shoulder Pads” as a code name and slacked off in class and lightened the mood with his silly arguments and bickering. Right? Or…is the fact that she had always reduced him in her mind to such a narrow set of qualities the real reason why she’s been reduced to speechlessness now?

She clears her throat again. What’s wrong with her today? Right. She has to focus on the issue at hand. That’s what she has to do. If she doesn’t focus on one issue at a time she’ll go insane. 

“I’m…sorry to drag you into this.” Despite her efforts, there’s a tremor in her voice. An uncharacteristic uncertainty. “But…you know him best. Could you help us?”

Ryuji cocks his head. Then, to her surprise, he snorts. 

“What’s with that look?” He sounds amused. “You’re actin’ like I’m about to jump you or somethin’.”

She feels her face flush, but forces herself to keep speaking. “So…you’ll help?”

“Why d’you think I’m here? ‘Course I wanna help.”

Relief, warm and bright, blossoms in Makoto’s chest, melts some of the freezing fear that gnaws at her, eases some of the pressure off her shoulders. Hearing him say that, seeing his willingness to cooperate with them even after all that’s happened…maybe it’s not sensible, but it gives her a bit of hope. Hope for the future.

“If anything, shouldn’t I be the one askin’ you?” he adds dryly. “Not sure if everyone here’s eager to have me around.”

“There’s no need to worry!” Haru dimples. “No one here is going to have a problem with your company. Isn’t that right?”

Makoto almost shivers. Looking around, it looks like Ann and Morgana are in the same boat as her. She makes a mental note to never get on Haru’s bad side.

 _“Now that everything is settled…”_ Makoto silently thanks Yusuke for getting them back on track. _“Has Akira made contact with you today, Ryuji?”_

He shakes his head. “If he ran out like that, it was probably more of an on-impulse kinda thing, yeah? Sounds like he wouldn’t really be in the right mind to let people know where he’s goin’.”

“That makes sense, but…” Ann frowns. “Then what was the reason he ran? Morgana and I were there — nothing happened that could be considered big enough for him to just snap like that.”

“Mona-chan mentioned they had been talking, no?” Haru asks. “Perhaps it was something you said?”

Morgana looks dubious. “I mean…we did talk, but, like…barely. I doubt it was that.”

“What did you two talk about?” Makoto asks. “There might be a clue in your conversation.”

“Do you think so?” Morgana looks up, his tail swishing as he thinks. “It really wasn’t anything important. I can’t even remember much about it. I think…I think I said something about how he looked different today maybe?’

 _“Different?”_ Futaba echoes. _“Different how?”_

“Do you remember your exact words to him?” Makoto adds.

To her disappointment, Morgana shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

“Now that you mention it, he _did_ look different,” Ann muses, tapping a finger to her chin, leaning back in her chair. “I only saw him when he came in just before class started, so I wasn’t really paying attention, but I remember he looked more upset than usual. It was also weird that I was even able to tell in the first place.”

Morgana hums in assent. “I know what you mean. I’m not really sure how to word it, but his face was more…open, today, wasn’t it?”

 _“He is normally quite closed off,”_ Yusuke says. _“I see why that would be of note_ . _”_

“I wonder why he was upset, though…” Haru trails off.

“Oh!” Morgana’s ears perk up. “He mentioned this morning he felt like he was forgetting something important. That’s probably why.” His ears droop back down. “But I don’t know how relevant that is…”

Makoto bites her lip. This discussion doesn’t seem to be leading anywhere, and every second wasted is another second Akira could be in danger. She has to act. That’s what a leader does, right? They don’t just wait around. They take initiative.

“Futaba.” She raises her voice slightly, to ensure her voice is heard through Ann’s phone. “Are you able to track his phone?”

 _“Huh?”_ Futaba makes a startled noise. _“I-I mean, yeah? I thought you were against me doing this kind of thing.”_

“This is an exception.”

 _“Ooh, because it’s an emergency, right?”_ Makoto can picture her nodding to herself. _“Okay! It might take me a few minutes, though. Let me just get back to my computer…”_

As she continues on, half mumbling and half humming to herself, Makoto finds her focus drawing back to Ryuji. For some reason, he’s rummaging through his bag. His eyebrows, furrowed together in concentration as he searches, suddenly shoot upwards, as he stares for a moment at whatever he just found. The corner of his mouth twists, morphing his expression into one of…wistfulness. 

Then he shakes his head, pockets something, and zips his bag closed. 

“You don’t have to do that, Futaba.”

By the time everyone else has turned their attention to him, he’s already at the exit of the rooftop, hand on the doorknob.

“I know where he is.”

\--- 

_“Ann’s not coming?”_

_“Nah. Said she’s got a modeling thing or somethin’. You okay? You don’t look too good.”_

_“Hm? No, no! I’m fine. We’re going to the arcade today, right?”_

_“Dude…y’know this friendship goes two ways, right? I know I ask a lot from you — ”_

_“You really don’t — ”_

_“— but you’re allowed to ask from me, too. Actually, no. I_ want _you to ask something from me. Right now.”_

_“Ryuji…”_

_“Really. It’s okay.”_

_“...then…”_

_A beat._

_“...then, would it be okay if we…didn’t…go there today?”_

_“‘Course, dude. Do you wanna go home? We can still walk to the train together, if you want.”_

_“I…honestly, I don’t know if I can go to the train station right now, either. There’s…there’s gonna be people everywhere, and I…”_

_“…Hey. Follow me for a sec?”_

_“…What?”_

_“I wanna show you a place. Pretty sure I’m the only one at school who even knows about it, so no one’s gonna bother you. You can stay there until you feel better. Or until the rush hour’s over and the trains get less crowded. Whichever comes first.”_

_“...”_

_“I can take you there, and if you don’t want people around, then I’ll leave — ”_

_“No! No, please, you…You’re fine. You…you don’t count.”_

_“O-oh…then, I’ll stay with you. Follow me, ‘kay?”_

\---

**(!!!! CW !!!!! SKIP IF NEEDED!)**

_So cold…_

It’s like he can feel every single fiber of his clothes rubbing against his skin, every strand of hair that brushes against his forehead and the nape of his neck, every stab of pain in his chest, every teardrop that soaks into his forearms, which are pressed against his eyes so tightly his vision has gone from black to a strange static. It’s all so much, _too_ much, and all he can do is curl up tighter, in hopes that the pain of his knees digging into his forearms and the intensified pressure against his eyes will distract from everything else for even a second.

It’s too much. It’s _too much_ . Like he’s turned on that switch in his mind that turns his vision navy and kicks his senses into overdrive, but the switch got jammed, and now he can feel _everything_ . He can hear chatter from the nearby rooms and eyes boring into him through the walls and _oh God they’re staring at him aren’t they they’re looking at him they’re_ looking _at him_ —

“ — ra? ‘Kira, can you hear me?”

His entire body jerks backwards. 

Ryuji?

Pricks of pain bloom from his elbows, where his fingernails have begun to dig into, as he shrinks away from the voice, his heart suddenly squeezing uncomfortably. No. It’s — it’s probably just his imagination, right? Right. Because — because Ryuji would never want to see him. He _shouldn’t_ see him. Akira doesn’t deserve his attention.

“Akira?” His voice is so gentle. So worried. Akira wants to cry. “Hey. It’s okay. If you can hear me, match your breathing with mine, okay? Just follow my lead.”

He takes a long, exaggerated breath, followed by a deep exhale through his mouth. When he inhales again, Akira does his best to inhale with him. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. His first few breaths are too loud to his ears, and too ragged, and there are some points where he chokes or stutters and has to gasp for air at a rate faster than the one Ryuji sets. 

But Ryuji remains steady, breathing in, breathing out, a simple one-two beat, calming and steadfast over the mismatched beating of Akira’s own heartbeat in his throat. A quiet metronome, that continues to tick, even when Akira feels like the world is spinning and the ground is going to give out beneath him and his brain is going to implode. It ticks onwards. Ryuji stays with him, his presence a mere few feet from him, rooted there, his anchor that stops Akira from being whisked away by the whirlpool of chaos and the deep waters of his fears.

And Akira breathes.

“Just like that,” Ryuji murmurs. “You’re doin’ really well.”

His affirmation is a ray of sunlight breaking through dark heavy fog. When Akira breathes in again, and feels the clean oxygen travel smoothly to his lungs and into his blood, radiating outwards in slow pulses.

“Great job, ‘Kira.” A pause. “Can you look at me?”

No. Panic floods him again. _No._ He can’t, he can’t let Ryuji see his face, not like this, not without —

“Please, Akira. I’m right here. It’s just me. I need you to look at me. It’s gonna be okay. You can trust me. Can you do that for me?”

Trust? 

Trust… Of course Akira trusts him. He always has. It was _him_ who lost Ryuji’s trust. It was his fault for losing him. So…he owes him this, doesn’t he? If he still trusts him…

It takes him a good minute, what with his body refusing to cooperate with him and the muscles in his neck being practically locked in place by the stiffness and tension weighing them down. But he pushes, pushes in a way he’s never had to before, not used to the feeling of being locked in his own body when he’s so accustomed to moving and dancing and flipping through the air exactly the way he wants to just by mere thought. Yet he keeps pushing anyway. Because Ryuji’s there. Waiting for him. And really, Ryuji being there is all he’s ever needed.

He looks up.

“There you go.” Ryuji’s smiling encouragingly now, and it turns his eyes warm, even in the navy blue tint that stains his vision. Akira still doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel _right_ , and the fears that have reduced him to nothing like this are demanding he hide his face again, but he makes himself focus on Ryuji, focus on his eyes. His eyes, so familiar yet still somewhat different, a rich dark chocolate flecked through with gold (gold?), but still with that same kindness and earnestness and lack of judgment that loosens the knot in Akira’s when Akira looks into them they still hold the warmth of home.

“I’ve got somethin’ to give you,” he continues, and he’s probably holding something up, but Akira’s not sure if he can bring himself to look away from Ryuji’s eyes without falling back to pieces. “The thing you’ve been missin’. Is that okay? If it is, can you open one of your hands for me so I can give it to you?”

Something to give to him? Akira frowns, but all of his thoughts keep jumbling into incoherency when he tries to think further about Ryuji’s words. But…the thing he’s been missing? 

One of his hands releases from his elbow, and something warm and smooth meets the icy skin of his palm. He recognizes it without even having to look down. 

_Glasses_.

When he puts the glasses on, a shuddering breath leaves his body in one long shaking exhale. They’re not the ones he usually wears, and the shape is slightly off, but the weight is there and comforting and grounding, a shield gifted to him after he had been left defenseless against the rest of the world’s prying eyes. 

He blinks, once, twice, ten times, allowing the mask to adjust, to fit and reshape and mold to his features. He blinks the navy out of his vision, until his clothes stop chafing and the faraway chatter goes silent and his skin stops tingling from the sensation of feeling everything at once. Until the world feels just a little less cold.

“Better?” 

He looks — it’s far easier to bring himself to look at Ryuji this time — and sees the relief alight beneath Ryuji’s expression, a weary yet soft glow like that of a flickering candle. For some reason, the sight of Ryuji’s smile causes a new emotion to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. 

Guilt.

He swallows. When he tries to force his voice out his dry throat, it comes out breathless and crackly. “Ryuji…”

“Don’t overdo it.” The candlelight flickers again. “Just focus on your breathing for now, yeah? You’re almost there.”

Akira wants to protest, but even with his glasses in place, the dregs of panic from before still linger, still squeeze at his lungs and swirl in his head. So he sighs, and breathes out fear and breathes in regret, tilting his head back until it thuds against the wall behind him, closing his eyes to the world. The silence that follows is peaceful, tranquil, a blanket that floats downwards until it lands softly over them. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

At some point, Akira reaches out, to where he knows Ryuji’s hand will be, and intertwines their fingers. He hears a short hitched breath, a small “Oh—”, but the hand in his doesn’t move. 

A few seconds later, Ryuji’s thumb brushes over the side of his hand, and for the briefest of moments, Akira’s heart feels whole again.

**(!!!!! CW END !!!!!!)**

(Summary for those who skipped: Ryuji helps Akira through a panic attack, and gives him a pair of glasses.)

\---

They’re in the student council room now, all of them sans Futaba and Yusuke, for obvious reasons. From Morgana’s perch on the center of the main table, he can see most of them — Makoto and Ann conversing quietly, Haru placing a steaming cup of coffee before Akira that she had apparently taken from the teacher’s lounge, Akira… 

Ryuji had insisted on not taking Akira to the school nurse, which Makoto had suggested (“Are you really expectin’ me to put my trust in a Shujin staff member, Makoto?”), and, well, none of them were really in any place to argue with that. 

He’d also advised them to give Akira food and a place where he can warm up, which is why Akira is seated closest to the heater, a bar of dark chocolate Ann had happened to have with her in one hand. He takes small bites from it every so often, but most of the time he simply stares at the table, exhaustion lowering his head and sloping his shoulders downwards and greying out his aura. 

From somewhere behind him, just outside the door, Ryuji’s voice seeps in, low but not low enough (Morgana wonders if it’s even possible for him to be quiet at this point), as he catches Futaba and Yusuke up on everything. They’re both still connected via group call on Ann’s phone, but nearly all of them forgot about the call until Futaba’s voice demanding for an update burst through the speakers and nearly caused Ann to drop the phone. They’d agreed to let Ryuji explain. None of them had been there, after all.

Morgana hates this. Hates seeing Akira like this. Hates seeing the pain that still lingers like the smell of rain after a bad storm, when he knows he can’t do anything to erase it. When he knows he _didn’t_ do anything to prevent it.

He should’ve been there. He’s always with Akira, he should’ve noticed as soon as Akira ran off. No, he should’ve noticed sooner than that, should’ve noticed Akira acting off. But because he didn’t, Akira almost…almost… 

Morgana inches slightly closer to Akira, almost involuntarily. Akira looks up from the table, and, with a small half-smile, extends his free hand to smooth Morgana’s fur. For once, Morgana doesn’t pretend to hate it, instead moving closer to prevent Akira from having to reach so far.

“Are you okay?” Morgana asks.

A nod. Right. Ryuji had mentioned Akira wouldn’t really be in a talking mood in this state. (How does Ryuji know so much about Akira that Morgana doesn’t?)

“That’s good.” He pauses, then, the background chatter reducing to a buzzing in the back of his mind, and swallows. He hates apologizing, hates it because it means admitting he’s wrong and he can’t _afford_ to ever be wrong, not if it means giving everyone more reasons to look down on him, but… “It was what I said, right?”

Akira tilts his head.

“I just remembered. ‘Where are your glasses?’ I should’ve noticed sooner. I should’ve…I should’ve reminded you this morning. And when I said it I didn’t even think it was important…but maybe if I remembered earlier we would’ve found you sooner and — ”

He’s interrupted by a gentle shush from Akira, and a slight shake of the head. 

“But—”

Akira’s hand moves to scratch under Morgana’s chin, effectively cutting Morgana off. Morgana scowls, but at Akira’s slightly red yet reassuring eyes, he relents, if only not to kick up a fuss. _It’s okay_ , Akira seems to say to his unspoken apology, through his half-smile and soothing touches, but how is Morgana supposed to believe that when Akira’s so obviously _not_ okay? 

No. He’s never really been okay, has he? Morgana should’ve noticed earlier. Ever since… 

“Just so you all know.” The two look to Makoto, who now seems to be addressing all of them. “I know lunch is almost over, but I informed your teachers you’ve been spending your lunch period helping me with student council business, and thus may be late to or absent from your afternoon classes.”

“Thank you, Mako-chan,” Haru says kindly. “We appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Makoto ducks her head, and her hair falls in front of her face like a curtain. “And Akira, you’re free to stay here the entire afternoon. I will ensure you remain undisturbed.”

Akira nods gratefully, which seems to at least somewhat ease Makoto’s distress. She, like the rest of them, has been at a loss ever since they found out about Akira’s disappearance, her muscles strung tight, her hands moving everywhere like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. It probably helps, knowing she was at least able to do something to contribute. 

“‘Kay.” There’s a quiet, almost soundless, thud, as Ryuji places Ann’s phone, screen up, back in front of her. “Yusuke had to get back to class, and Boss is makin’ Futaba get lunch. They were askin’ about your plans for the Palace…?”

They all jolt at the same time. Even Morgana’s a little caught off guard by the mention of the Palace. That’s right. Okumura… 

“I don’t know.” Ann looks uneasy. “Is it…really a good idea? After everything that’s happened today…I think we all need some rest.”

“That’s not an option,” Morgana says immediately, his voice firm. “This is our only shot. If we don’t go today, we’ll never get another chance to change Okumura’s heart.”

“I know that, but…” Her eyebrows knit together. “Is it really okay?”

Makoto frowns, seeming equally bothered. “I don’t like this either, but…we don’t have a choice.” She sighs, closing her eyes. “Perhaps…we should go without Akira?”

“No.” 

They all startle when Akira speaks — Morgana has to turn a full 180 degrees around to see him, after having adjusted earlier to be able to face Ryuji — his head shooting up, his slightly bloodshot eyes still holding that same determined fire behind his new glasses. “I can still fight,” he says. “The plan hasn’t changed.”

“But, Akira — ”

“This isn’t up for debate.” His mouth is set in a grim line. “I’ll…I’ll be fine in an hour or two, if you let me stay here. I promise.”

“If you’re sure…” Makoto looks like she wants to protest more, but at the last second bites her words back down with a huff. She knows, as well as they all do, that going without him isn’t really a good option either. “Then…we’ll let Futaba and Yusuke know to meet us there, same as always. Can someone…?”

“I’ll text them.” Ann picks her phone back up. It seems to only take a few seconds, her fingers flying across her screen. “There.”

“Cool.” Ryuji looks away, his body already halfway positioned towards the exit. “Then, if that’s it — ”

“Wait!” 

Even Makoto seems surprised at her own sudden outburst. She catches herself, and when she speaks again, her voice is more controlled. “Please. Won’t you talk to us?”

“Isn’t lunch almost over — ”

“You’ve been excused from classes. I handled it myself.”

He doesn’t turn fully, but his eyes slide over to glance at her. “You asked me to come to school right after I got out from being trapped in Mementos for four days straight. Am I supposed to believe that?”

She winces. “W-well…”

“She’s not lying, Ryuji-kun,” Haru says.

“Sure,” he says with a scoff, but his demeanor grows less harsh at Haru’s input. “Is it more questions?”

“Partially, yes.” Makoto’s wringing her hands now as she looks at him, as if the mere action of making eye contact with him is making her nervous. But that’s ridiculous. Right? “I’m sure Futaba and Yusuke asked you questions. It’s only fair you allow us the same opportunity, correct?”

It’s as if everyone is waiting on the same held breath, as the two remain locked in their gazes, Makoto getting more and more nervous as the silence builds. It’s Ryuji who breaks it first, when his eyes dart to somewhere past Makoto, at Morgana — no, not at Morgana. But rather, somewhere…above and behind Morgana, it looks like. His stoicism gives way to worry, then to resignation, as Ryuji sighs and finally turns away from the exit.

“If you’re gonna ask about the glasses…” He scratches at his neck. “It’s…kinda stupid.” 

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Haru says. She looks curious.

“I don’t even know if Akira remembers,” Ryuji admits, almost awkwardly. “But…I forget when, but once I had to meet him downstairs at Leblanc, and he came down without his glasses. When I asked, he booked it back upstairs to get them. But I just…I couldn’t forget how scared he looked, or how fast he ran, when he realized he didn’t have them. It just…it felt off, y’know? So…I started carryin’ around an extra pair. Just in case.”

That’s…certainly not the kind of reason Morgana had been expecting. He turns back for a moment to look at the new frames perched on Akira’s nose. He’s known for a while that Akira doesn’t need glasses — hell, considering how perceptive he is in the Metaverse without them, Morgana’s pretty sure he has 20/20 vision — but when he’d asked why Akira even bothered wearing what were basically glorified pieces of plastic, Akira had only said “Fashion,” with his signature crooked smile. Morgana hadn’t even bothered questioning further…

“Wow.” Ann is studying Akira’s glasses as well. “They look really similar to the ones he usually wears.”

“That’s good,” Ryuji says. “I tried to buy ones that matched his.”

“I’m surprised you still had them with you, honestly.”

“Yeah, well…” Ryuji’s cheeks flush pink. “I…guess I never got around to takin' them outta my bag.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Haru says. “But…how did you know where he was?”

“I wasn’t even aware the school had a music room in the first place,” Makoto mutters. “So how did you…?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I just found it. It makes sense no one really knows about it, since it’s so old and out-of-the-way, but I guess I just got lucky one day. I’ve shown it to Akira before, so to me it made sense that he’d go there if he was tryin’ to get away from people.”

“I see…”

The class bell rings from overhead. Morgana suppresses a hiss. He hates that sound. How does everyone stand it? 

“Ryuji.” Makoto hesitates, and the air seems to shift, as if picking up on her intention to change the topic at hand. “Now that you’re here…it may also be worthwhile to discuss your relationship to us. As Phantom Thieves.”

“For real?” He raises an eyebrow. “But Futaba and Yusuke ain’t here. Shouldn’t you wait for your whole team to be with you?”

 _Your_ team. It’s subtle, but Morgana’s certain he’s not the only one that picked up on it. The way Ryuji has drawn lines of distinction between them in practically every way possible, even here, when he stands in the same room amongst them but still feels so far away. The empty spot in their team that once belonged to him is out in the open, exposed and raw, yet he does nothing to try to fill it again. Regards it coolly, like it was never his to begin with. 

“They’ll understand,” Ann says. “We’re…we’re sorry. _I’m_ sorry.”

His eyes go wide, as if he hadn’t been anticipating her to say that at all. “What?”

“I mean it.” Her blue eyes glisten in genuine sorrow, and she sniffs. “I…I made fun of you, and I always excused it by telling myself it was just our way of poking fun at each other, in a lighthearted way, y’know? But…at some point, I started hurting you…and I didn’t stop, when I should’ve. So…I’m really sorry.”

“Ann…”

“We’re all sorry, Ryuji.” Makoto speaks up, putting a hand on Ann’s shoulder. “You’re a part of our team, and we would love nothing more than to have you back with us again. You…you could even join our infiltration of Okumura’s Palace today, if you wanted.” 

“I…” Ryuji still seems somewhat dumbfounded. The tips of his ears have gone red. “God, I…I appreciate it. Really. But, joining the team again…” A sigh. “I just don’t know.”

Morgana feels Akira’s wince more than he hears it — feels it in the way Akira’s fingers freeze in his fur, tensed and stiff and agonized, and in the way his strokes, when he tries to resume them like nothing happened, are unnaturally robotic. 

He looks around, again, at his team. At _his_ team. At Ann, still blinking back the wetness in her eyes. At Makoto, wringing her hands so hard the skin there is starting to look angry and inflamed. At Haru, who meets his eyes with only questions that seem one breeze away from tipping over into distrust. At the cracks that are starting to look more like fissure lines, as they spread…all originating from one person.

Morgana’s blood boils over, propels him forward and away from Akira’s touch, flattens his ears against his head, and suddenly he’s speaking through bared teeth.

“Can you just _get over yourself?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does it count as passing my own challenge if I post this ON february 4th??
> 
> the next update has already been written, so it is coming SOON! If you'd like to vote on when it gets released, find me on Twitter! (@lilac_starr) Stay tuned! <3
> 
> (Also @ Morgana fans please do not hate me ahaha...he's not as difficult to write as Akechi but he's really up there, I tried my best :'))))
> 
> (Oh also also!! Tags have changed! Just for spoiler purposes...and for reasons more related to the structure I'm planning out for this story. I'll elaborate more on that on Twitter or something probably, or in the next chapter's notes!)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ask and ye shall receive! ty to all who voted <3
> 
> also beware of long notes at the end, feel free to skip over it! I just like to ramble

“Can you just _get over yourself?”_

The rest of them are too taken aback to speak, as they look at Morgana, then Ryuji, then back at Morgana, as if not fully comprehending the words he'd just spoken into existence. Words that pierce into the walls like bullets and ignite flames like matches. Words born purely from the spark of a heated temper. Words that have rendered every single one of them speechless, as they all can do nothing but watch the damage unleashed by the gunfire.

All of them save Haru, who says warningly, “Mona-chan, don’t — ”

But the rest of her warning fails to register in Morgana's mind. There’s a roaring in his ears, blood rushing to his head, so loud that it drowns out the rest of Haru’s warning, drowns out all thoughts except one.

_Protect my friends._

“Everyone’s trying so _damn_ hard to keep this team together, and you have the _nerve_ to act like this?! Can’t you see how much pain and difficulty you’re causing? How selfish can you be?”

Ryuji meets his glare head-on, his jaw tensed, as he says, flatly, “Selfish?”

“Mona-chan!”

 _“No,_ Haru! I’m so _sick_ of the two of you treating us like _we’re_ the bad guys!” Morgana scowls. “Isn’t Akira supposed to be your best friend? How can you call yourself that when all you’ve done is bring him pain?” He flicks his tail in Akira’s direction, too dialed in on his own rage to break his focus and turn to see Akira's reaction. “I was going to apologize for what I said before, but you know what? I don’t want to anymore! Not when you obviously don’t care about us!”

“Are you _kidding?”_

Golden lightning splits the dark of his eyes, and suddenly Morgana realizes why Makoto had looked so unnerved when meeting his gaze. His fur starts standing on end, as if the air were charged with static.

“'Don't care'? I put _everything I had_ into caring about you! I spent this _entire time_ putting everyone’s feelings before mine, because no matter how much it hurt to hear the shit you’d say about me, the idea of losing the only friends I had hurt even more! I've put my _life_ on the line for all of you at _least_ once, and you're gonna call me _selfish?!_ ”

" _Everyone_ puts their lives on the line when they go to the Metaverse, not just you, y'know! We're a team — we're all supposed to be equal. Don't start putting yourself on a pedestal."

"Are you _seriously_ gonna say that right now?"

"Besides, you left the team, didn't you? That doesn't exactly scream 'selfless' to me."

“I _left_ after I saw you leave! After I realized that hey, if I don’t like something, I can just _leave,_ like you did! Are you really gonna blame me for doin’ that? ‘Specially when you did the same thing?”

“As a matter of fact, I _can,_ because at least _I_ owned up to my mistakes! All you’ve been doing is tearing the team apart with your temper tantrum, but at least _I_ have enough dignity to acknowledge when I hurt the people I care about!”

“So I was never included in that category?”

“I — ” Morgana stutters, scrambling for a response. “Well, _you_ hurt me first, so — ”

_“Then I’m effin’ sorry, alright?!”_

Morgana blinks. 

The roaring in his ears crashes, a tidal wave of cold waters, fades until all he hears is his and Ryuji’s heavy breathing and a faint ringing, as the gold in Ryuji’s eyes seizes him, pulls him under the ocean of his tidal wave. The sudden cold is so shocking it freezes Morgana in place.

“God — ” He huffs, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I said it as a joke, okay? I didn’t think you’d actually believe me, considerin’ how easy it is to see how much everyone on the team respects you. If me callin’ you useless hurt you that much even as a joke, though, then fine. That’s my bad. And I’m sure everyone’s already told you, seein’ as you’re with them now, but no one thinks you’re useless. Okay?” Then, with a much quieter bitterness, “They were always too busy lookin’ down on me to find a reason to look down on you, too.”

“Ryuji — ”

“Don’t, Akira.” Ryuji shoots a pointed look at a spot above and behind Morgana’s head. “Not if you don’t mean it.”

“But — ”

“The _point_ is.” Ryuji redirects his eyes. “I’m sorry. And I can give you as many apologies as you want from me, but why should I? I know you’re not gonna give me one back.”

Morgana opens his mouth, about to protest, about to show he _can_ give an apology when it’s due, thank you very much —

_No._

He falters.

 _They’re going to see how worthless you are_. 

Suddenly he feels like he’s drowning, drowning in the intensity of his tidal wave, drowning in everyone else’s eyes pinned on him. Helpless, breathless…voiceless. 

_They’re going to see you have nothing to give them in return._

_What good are you if you’re wrong?_

_They’re going to take back what they said about accepting you unconditionally._

_You’re going to be alone again._

_You’re going to be_ alone _again._

The thought feels like a claw slashing through his heart.

 _No._ His own voice resurfaces, meek and watery and desperate. _I’m not wrong. I can’t be wrong I can’t be wrong I can’t apologize they’ll look down on me I can’t do it I CAN’T_ —

... 

With a snap, his mouth closes.

“...figures.”

Ryuji crosses his arms, turning his head away, and at the same time it feels like a door has slammed shut in their faces.

“I’m done here.” There's a slight waver there, a hurt that Morgana doesn't expect, before it's hidden away again. “Don’t ever talk to me about the Phantom Thieves again.” 

No one tries to stop him from leaving this time.

The silence that remains settles over them like a fog. Until —

_SLAM._

Morgana jumps when Haru slams her open palm down on the table, the impact so great he can hear the liquid in Akira’s cup slosh around behind him, despite the distance between his and Haru’s seats. Within the same action, she stands, her chair scraping against the floor as she does.

“Mona-chan.” Normally, when she calls him that, he finds it endearing. But the way her voice lilts over each syllable, drips with a sickly sweetness, drags the name out through pointed teeth…it’s scarier than her just flat-out screaming it. “We’ve spoken about this, yes?”

“I know, I know…I just…” 

“You know? Are you certain?” She giggles, the sound ringing hollow. “If only I believed you.”

He doesn’t respond. How can he? What is he supposed to say to that? 

“I’m surprised I’m the only one who ever seems to confront you on this.” Her eyes sweep over the rest of them in the room, holding none of the saccharinity present in her tone. “Has it always been this way? With the rest of you choosing silence in fear of disturbing your team’s fragile peace, over speaking up for the sake of a teammate’s feelings? Because if this is the case, it means you weren’t much of a team to begin with, doesn't it?”

Haru’s voice slices as deeply as her ax. He bristles, feeling the need to defend them, to defend his team, but…no matter how hard he searches, he just can’t find any words. 

“No wonder he wants nothing to do with the Phantom Thieves.” Her tone becomes stiffer, business-like. “After we change my father’s heart, I will be concluding my business with you all. Please never consider me a part of your team afterwards.” She smiles, then, revealing her dimples. “Understood?”

She doesn’t wait around long enough for them to respond. 

Morgana looks around. This time, none of his teammates look back at him. His heart plummets, all the way to the pit of his stomach, as he watches the fissures widen with a sickening crack.

They hadn’t been originating from Ryuji. 

They were originating from _him_.

\---

_Stupid._

A swing of his sword.

_Focus._

Another swing.

_How do you expect to get anything done like this? Get your head in the damn game, Goro._

With a final stab, the Shadow dissolves, shrieking as it does. He barely looks over what it drops, just pockets it and keeps moving. 

He doesn’t have a lot of time today. He’s so pressed for time he couldn’t even afford to go to the entrance Sakamoto normally uses to wait for him there — although it should be fine, he doesn’t think Sakamoto will be here today, he never comes to Mementos more than thrice a week and they’ve already met twice this week — but he supposes that may be for the best, considering…well.

Usually he never visits Mementos when he has business to conduct in a Palace on the same day, but there was a target he had never got around to taking care of, and he won’t get another chance to do so without raising suspicion after today. It’s unlike him to leave things to the last minute, but… 

_Because you don’t want to kill in front of —_

Goro shakes his head violently at the thought, cutting it off. No. Absolutely not. He’s not idiotic enough to involve himself in such sentimentality. Why would Sakamoto’s opinion mean anything to him? Who cares if he’s disappointed or disgusted or decides to leave because of it? Goro doesn’t care. He _can’t_ care. He… 

A sigh escapes him, quiet enough to not attract any nearby Shadows. His sigh dissipates, becoming one with the dreariness already ever-present in the Mementos air. There had been a time when he’d been afraid of this place, afraid of how its darkness twisted and clawed and spread outwards like capillary networks, as the sound of squelching black ooze and horrific shrieks echoed down the neverending train tracks and forever-shifting corners. Now, it all just feels familiar. More familiar to him than any place he’s ever lived in.

He shakes his hands out for what feels like the millionth time today. Why is he so _nervous_ today? He’s known for months now that he’d have to kill Okumura, he’s thought out and created and recreated plans until his brain could no longer pick out a single flaw in them, he’s been prepared for this for what feels like forever. This isn’t even the first time he’s taken out a high-profile target. All this…it’s just another job, really.

So why is he so…like this? Why do doubts keep creeping into the forefront of his mind? Why does every step he takes feel so reluctant, so uncertain, like his body is trying to step backwards rather than forwards? Why does his hand keep shaking every time he takes out his gun? 

He closes his eyes, and Sakamoto’s face appears, all smiles, as obnoxiously bright as always.

_You can call me Ryuji, y’know…We’re friends, right?_

Friends… 

He opens his eyes, forcing the image out of his head, as he keeps walking, stepping over a particularly twisted rail as he does. A scowl settles over his face.

It doesn’t matter. He doubts Sakamoto will want to talk to him after today, anyway. Sakamoto may not be a Phantom Thief, but there’s no doubt he’ll be upset about Okumura’s murder. Especially if it’s by Goro’s hands.

Well. If not as the Black Mask…at least he’ll still be able to speak to him as Goro Akechi. 

… 

God, is he getting _soft_?

He growls, low and guttural, as he shakes his head again. Enough. He’s already taken care of the target here, so what he _should_ be doing now is making his way to Okumura’s Palace so he can —

_BOOM!_

Something strikes him from behind, and he feels himself go flying until he hits the ground with a thud.

 _Shit_. He launches himself to his feet immediately, unsheathing his sword, already calling Loki forward. He got distracted. How did he let himself get distracted?

A sinister laugh, vaguely feminine in tone, greets his ears, as the Shadow floats to stand before him, its green and gold cape flowing majestically behind it. If it weren’t for the cape, and its hair, which is shaped in two large silver tufts that point upwards like horns, Goro’s eyes would have slid right over it at first glance — and even at second glance, all he’d see would be a black humanoid silhouette, with its facial features vaguely outlined in blood red.

 _“Did I scare you, little human?”_ It reaches out, as raw dark purple power surrounds it, causing its cape to flutter, before the power gathers and forms a hand, a spectral projection of its already extended hand almost as large as Goro. He barely manages to leap out of the way as the hand swipes down at him. _“Why do you run? There’s so much I’d like to show you…”_

“No thank you,” he spits out, as Loki sends black and red arcs of darkness soaring downwards at it. 

The Shadow doesn’t even so much as blink, much to Goro’s bewilderment (does it nullify Dark skills?! Shit, _shit_ — ), just laughs again, the sound scraping against his eardrums. He’s so thrown off guard that before he can recover, its cape sweeps outwards, seemingly tripling in size, seizing Goro and hoisting him up in the air.

Goro chokes as the air is forced out of his lungs, just before the corner of the cape curling around his throat and tightening in one snap. He kicks and flails, but to no avail — besides his head, his entire body is trapped.

Shit. He tries to gasp for air, to fight against this _cursed_ cape, _anything_ , but can already feel his mind start to get hazy from lack of oxygen, too hazy to even concentrate enough to command Loki. Shit, he messed up. He’s never this off-guard, never this _stupid_ , how did he — no — how —

 _“There there.”_ In his blurring vision, he sees the purple hand again, as one finger extends towards him, pointed directly at his heart. _“Isn’t this better?”_

_No — he can’t fail here — he’s —_

“NO!”

There’s a flash of red, and a thundering sound so loud he feels his teeth rattle in his skull, followed by a shriek of pain as the Shadow’s cape slackens completely. His stomach drops, as he is suspended in freefall for a terrifying moment, until he crashes to the ground.

“Shit!” He hears the sound of running footsteps. “Hey! Are you okay?”

He groans, coughing, his throat making awful wheezing sounds as his lungs work to take in air again. Through the din of his own guttural coughs and the blur that he tries to blink from his eyes, a face swims into view in the distance, from behind the Shadow. A face he recognizes immediately.

“Sakamoto…” 

“Holy _shit_ , dude — ” He’s yelling, but still doesn’t sound very loud. He must be far away. “I — how did you even get here? I didn’t see you at the entrance — ”

“There’s — more than one way to travel through Mementos but — ” He fights through a cough, shoving himself up to one knee. “I’ll explain — after we _kill_ the bastard over there!”

“R-right — whoa!” 

Just as Sakamoto had been about to run past the Shadow to get to Goro, there’s a sudden thud, as the cape that had been holding Goro up suddenly moves to block Sakamoto’s path.

 _“How rude,_ ” it tuts. _“I’m afraid I’m still not done here. I have more to see.”_

“What the eff are you goin’ on about?” Goro hears a heavy thud, and a tearing sound, from what he can only assume is Sakamoto attacking the cape with his mace. “See what?!”

Its red smile grows, widens so that it looks like a bloody slash across its face, as its empty eyes bore into his own. _“Fear.”_

The cape rips, as Sakamoto bursts through, just as the floating hand plunges into Goro’s chest.

\---

For a moment, Ryuji can’t believe what he’s seeing.

The Black Mask falls backwards, his eyes going dark and glassy as soon as the hand makes contact with his heart. The hand itself begins to change in form, as the purple seeps into him, almost as if it’s becoming one with him, until the Black Mask is left radiating a dark violet glow.

“What — ” Ryuji whips his head around to look at the Shadow, who is positively cackling now. “What did you _do?!_ Hey!” This time, at the Black Mask, “Can you hear me? Say somethin’!”

“Sakamoto…” 

Ryuji’s _never_ heard him sound like that before. Shaken, desperate, terrified, like he’s one second from running away. His eyes have widened, darting around like a cornered animal, still holding a strange purple glint behind the red glass of his mask. 

He swears under his breath. He’s seen this before. It _never_ turns out well.

“Snap out of it!” He almost moves to run over to him, but stops himself just in time — close contact might end up scaring him even more. “Just calm down!”

“I don’t want to do this anymore…” The Black Mask shuffles backwards, until his back hits the wall. “I can’t…I don’t want to kill…I…” 

Ryuji’s heart pangs. He sounds so… “Then — then don’t! You don’t have to!”

“I _do!_ ” he wails. “It’s — it’s too late now, it’s all too late, I — I have to take father down — but — it’s too scary, it’s too much — ”

 _“There it is,”_ the Shadow purrs, causing Ryuji to shoot a glare its way (why is this Shadow so damn talkative anyway?). _“I can see so much about you, little prince.”_

“Just shut _up!”_ Ryuji snarls. He raises one fist, and there’s a resounding _BANG!_ as Seiten Taisei shoots an explosion in the Shadow’s face. The Shadow snarls, quickly readying a counterattack, and Ryuji barely blocks the worst of the barrage of ice from his face.

God. Right. Okay. He doesn’t have any items on hand that would help the Black Mask, from what he remembers, and Seiten Taisei definitely doesn’t have any skills that can heal… He racks his brain on what he can do. Is there nothing…no, if he defeats the Shadow, the condition should go away, right? Or is he misremembering…

No choice. He’ll have to trust his gut on that.

“I don’t want to kill him…” Through the din of the ongoing battle, Ryuji can still make out the Black Mask’s voice. “I don’t even want to go to space…you’re going to leave…”

“Space?” Ryuji slashes his morningstar through another one of the Shadow’s spectral purple hands. “And what do you mean I’m gonna leave? I won’t! I’m still right here!”

“Don’t leave! Please!” His voice cracks. “We…we were supposed to play billiards…”

Ryuji freezes, and Seiten Taisei’s next attack misses by a mile. 

What?

Before his mind is even able to fully register that thought, another wave of ice barrels towards him, and his focus is immediately yanked back to the fight at hand.

“No! Fuck it! I don’t want to deal with _any_ of this scary shit anymore!” The Black Mask is starting to grow more and more hysterical. “I — I want to run away!”

“What — no! Don’t!”

“Why not?!” he shouts back. “I’ll run where no one will ever find me! Not father, not the reporters, not even my stupid fans! I don’t want to see any of them ever again!”

The Shadow’s eyes glint scarlet. _“Yes, little prince…”_ Its gaze turns on Ryuji, as ruby and amethyst light dances around it. _“What about you, little one? Come here…put your weapon down…aren’t you scared?"_

The purple light begins to extend in his direction, and images threaten to press into his mind’s eye, but Ryuji shakes them away. He can’t afford to get distracted. Not when his friend is still in danger.

“Y’know, I’m gettin’ real sick of you runnin’ your mouth.” His vision darkens. “So for the last time — ” He flings his hand outwards, and when he speaks again, his voice doesn’t even sound like his own, thunderous and sinister and booming. 

_“Get the hell outta my sight!"_

The air seems to vibrate in warning, before a colossal hammer, as large as the Shadow itself, bursts into existence in a flash of lightning, its head made up of a single block of some kind of mystical metal, with silver twisting around its wooden handle and a strap attached to to its end. It rises, until its face is aligned perfectly with the Shadow’s head. Ryuji catches one last glimpse of the Shadow’s face, as it looks up, red eyes round with the fear it had so desperately wanted to inflict on him, just as the hammer slams down so hard the earth beneath it ruptures.

Then, there’s nothing.

Ryuji doesn’t watch the hammer to dematerialize, doesn’t even go over to see what the Shadow may have left. As soon as the hammer had swung downwards, all his attention had turned to the Black Mask.

Something’s nagging at him. No, more than one thing, as he watches the Black Mask continue to take long shuddering breaths. He steps forward, towards him, slowly, hesitantly.

Billiards…reporters…fans…

No. Ryuji’s heartbeat begins quickening, pounding in his ribcage at the pace of a sprint, as too many thoughts attack him all at once. There’s no way. It has to be some kind of coincidence, or maybe his mind is just screwing with him, making him see things that aren’t really there. 

But…now that he thinks about it… 

Rapid-fire memories cross his vision. The way the Black Mask wields his sword and holds his gun…then it’s not the Black Mask anymore, but someone else, as he picks up his chopsticks, and holds the pen to mark white pages in red ink.

They’re…they’re both left-handed, aren’t they?

And that Shadow…it had called Ryuji “little one.” But…it called him something else. What did it say…?

Little prince… 

_Prince_ _._

The Black Mask finally looks up, catching Ryuji’s eye, and Ryuji stares back at storm-filled eyes like he’s seeing them for the first time. 

“Akechi?”

He — _Akechi_ — startles, clambering to his feet, eyes wild. “You — how did you — ”

“Holy shit, it really _is_ you.” Ryuji gapes at him. The Detective Prince? The Black Mask? They’re the _same person?!_ “What the eff…”

“Don’t!” Akechi yells, and as he continues to speak, it becomes easier and easier to match the two’s voices to each other. “Don’t — don’t come near me — ”

“W-whoa — dude, calm down — ”

“Calm down?!” He barks out a laugh, high-pitched and frenzied yet with zero humor. “How can I?! This wasn’t supposed to happen! You weren’t supposed to _know!_ You weren’t… _”_

“Akechi — ”

“You’re going to tell everyone, aren’t you?” Akechi says with a jolt, and suddenly a dark intensity sharpens his eyes into a glare. “ _Aren’t you?!_ You’re going to run back to your little Phantom Thief friends, and you’ll tell the whole world — ”

“N-no!” Ryuji protests. “I wasn’t — look, we can talk about this — ”

His speech comes to a screeching halt, as the Black Mask whips his gun out at him.

Ryuji immediately raises his hands, whether in a placating manner or as a gesture of surrender, he can't tell — all he can focus on is the gun pointed right at his forehead. "Whoa, wait a sec —"

“I won’t let you.” His hand is shaking. Why is it shaking? “I won’t let you! I’ll — I’ll kill you!” A dark smirk spreads on his face. “I will! Or did you forget? I’m a _murderer_ . One more death under my belt means nothing to me. _Nothing!”_

“That ain’t true!” Ryuji yells back. “You’re more than just a murderer, dammit! I know you don’t do this because you want to — you said you don’t! It doesn’t have to be like this! Look, whoever’s forcin’ you to kill people — we can stop him! Hell, we could probably find him right now!” At this, he pulls out his phone, waving it for Akechi to see. “We can — ”

He’s cut off by Akechi’s scoff. “Are you stupid enough to believe what I said under the influence of that _thing’s_ spell? I didn’t mean any of that shit! And if you think otherwise, then you really are an idiot!” He’s screaming now, his voice split like an open wound, pained and bleeding. _“You can’t help me!”_

Tears threaten to spring to his eyes at the sheer torment in Akechi’s every word. “Akechi, _please_ …just talk to me. I _can_ help, you just gotta let me! We can change things — you don’t have to do this anymore. Just trust me.”

“Trust…”

Akechi pauses, and for a second, the storm in his eyes lightens, daring to stop, daring to hope…

…before the winds pick up again, and the clouds grow darker than ever.

“I — I have a job to do.”

“Akechi — ”

“Shut up!” Akechi jabs the gun forward, and Ryuji freezes. His hand shakes even more violently. “I — I can’t let you stop me! At any cost!”

His hand stills, then, as he meets Ryuji’s eyes one last time. Behind the red glass, Ryuji swears he sees a tear.

“I’m sorry.”

The gun fires, and Ryuji yelps as he feels white-hot pain flare in his left hand, involuntarily releasing what he’d been holding. It falls to the ground, and Ryuji looks down to see it, only to then frown.

His phone?

When he looks up again, Akechi has already vanished.

It takes a few moments for realization to dawn on him, still reeling from his burning left hand, still dripping with blood, as well as the fact that he's even still alive. He looks back down at his phone, destroyed beyond repair by the bullet shot straight through its center. Without thinking, he crouches next to it and taps the screen. It doesn't turn on. Obviously.

But it's only then that he realizes what it means.

The burning still there in his left hand goes forgotten, replaced with a heavy feeling of dread that pools in the pit of his stomach. His eyes sweep around him, around Mementos, its darkness seeming so much more foreboding and terrifying now. He looks back at where Akechi had been standing, at his hand, at his phone, his last resort, his last shard of hope, lying mangled and powerless on the ground.

He can’t use the Metaverse app. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt: @lilac_starr  
> curiouscat: https://curiouscat.qa/lilac_starr (ask me anything!)
> 
> if anyone is curious, the Shadow Akechi encounters is Skadi! Also in the game it definitely doesn't have like any attacks with its cape I'm pretty sure, and I took a lot of creative liberties with the skill "Evil Touch" (fear ailment) but...oh well??
> 
> Also also the hammer attack is one of the new skills I mentioned before that Ryuji would get! Don't know if anyone caught it but it is 100% supposed to be Mjolnir (Thor's hammer!). And yes I KNOW there's a Thor in the game but isn't it just so fitting for Ryuji? Like besides the fact that Ryuji specializes in electric and physical attacks, which corresponds with Thor, him using Mjolnir also means he's /worthy/?? Like how after being put down by almost everyone he knows whether intentionally or unintentionally, this entire fic is and has been him realizing he IS worthy 
> 
> This is unfortunately my last update before school starts again, but I can tell you what I have in mind for the rest of this story!  
> \- Instead of just one fic, I've decided to spread the story out into a series composed of at least two parts (including this one)! I'm still debating on if I should just write one sequel or if I'm going to make it a trilogy, or even if I'm going to end up doing the whole game. Maybe if demand is high enough? We'll see!
> 
> \- The above point is also why the tags have changed, since what I had in mind before is no longer contained to just this one fic. When will it happen? Who knows ;)
> 
> \- In regards to Chariot's Redemption specifically, I think there are only going to be...two chapters left? Maybe three? Depends on how long Okumura's Palace will take (spoiler: something BIG is gonna happen). We're almost at the end though! It only took me nearly a whole year :'))))))
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking around for so long <3 Never in my life did I imagine this would get such a positive reception. You're all so sweet, I truly could not have asked for better readers <3333 Stay safe! Love you all!!


End file.
